Bellflowers, Batons, and Viper Churros
by BlondieLocks
Summary: A chronicle of one-shots that follows the lives of various characters throughout the years. With a steady progression forwards, each story captures intimate moments and presents snapshots of integral internal diaologues, events, and situations that build as each year goes by. A general passing of time documented by brief bursts of insight into these simple moments of life.
1. Too Cold for Bellflowers

**_Disclaimer: I don't own any of the content written other than my own original plot. All characters, locations, etc. belong to the property of Squaresoft. (Or SquareEnix, respectively.)_**

**Author's Note: Well, this marks my second work upon my return to . As part of the Advent Calendar Challenge I hope you all enjoy it, it's just a small one-shot that I penned off the top of my head. Read away!**

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A chill wind whipped through the trees of the port town Termina, bringing with it the ringing voice of a bright eyed young girl. Violet hair tumbled down her back in long spirals as she ran the path that wound towards the town black smith.

"Dario!" She called, the last of the wind biting at her heels as the heavy wooden door fell shut behind her. At 5'6, the Lady of Viper Manor was but a young girl; fifteen and fresh-faced, whose only political concerns were with arranging the perfect floral bouquet to send her General father away with.

"Riddel? What brings ye here on such a chill winter's morn'?"

"Is Dario in the back? I need to see him." She asked excited, her round face flushed pink from the cold of the day.

"Aye, I believe he's training, like always."

"Thanks, Zippa!"

With that she tumbled out of the Smithery's back door and spilled out into the side yard, taking with her all of that warm, vibrant effervescence that was most common to young girls. Zippa, the old Scottish wife of Zappa the blacksmith, smiled fondly at the bustling commotion that seems to follow most young people around.

"Aye, that girl, lovely in spirit as she is in appearance. Dinna know what ti make o' the day wit'out her or the boys."

Her husband, the burly Scott who often sat quietly forging in the back of the store, smiled faintly to himself, thinking how pleasant the presence of children made the day and sobered ones spirits. Reflecting on his only son Karsh for a moment, his smile widened, before his hammer struck the malleable metal and sent a clanging noise so loud through the house the walls seemed to shake and the floors vibrate. His goods were a thing of a legend, and he proudly stepped back, ready to fulfill another order.

Outside, Riddel's wine colored eyes searched eagerly for Dario. The ultra-violet hue of her hair danced whimsically around her as she looked all around the yard. From the window a young boy stared, bright blonde hair disheveled youthfully across his forehead as the emerald green of his eyes watched the older girl outside of his window.

He knew who she was; Riddel Viper, an old family friend who also happened to be his older brother's girlfriend. He dropped his softly curved chin into the palms of his hands, blowing at his hair while he looked on at Riddel. His eyes told the story of a little boy whose love lost was to his brother, Dario. At the tender age of eleven, Glenn was often the tag-along of the group of much older kids he hung around with, but Riddel's gentle touch and kind words had always gave him the hope that he harbored deep within his heart that one day, he would prove himself the worthiest of Dragoons there ever were to live, just like his older brother.

He sighed again, with all of the conviction a little boy could muster, torn between his allegiance and fierce loyalty to Dario and his secret crush on the fair maiden Riddel. Against his better judgment, and true to his good intentions, Glenn stood up, ready to go outside and tell his unrequited love that Dario was at the docks, training for the ever-impending possibility of being sea-ward bound in war. At this, Glenn laughed to himself, thinking how ahead of himself Dario was getting. To Glenn, eighteen seemed rather young, and his not-yet fully development mind scoffed at any possibility of war, glory, or death. To the dreamer that Glenn was, Dario was still as much of a child as he was, safe from the horrors of the imposing Porre Nation and the possibility of their invasion. Dario still walked that fine, ever so delicate thin line of child-like teenager and handsomely responsible young adult; to Glenn, Dario had not yet crossed that threshold, although he often feared with each day, he was closer to the army and further from his family.

Shaking these thoughts he walked to the door, his messy blonde hair falling this way and that over the white cloth he tied around his forehead in preparation for his "training," or so his brother would have him believe. Twisting the knob of the door he went to walk outside before he heard the sound of Dario's voice. Leaving just a crack in the door, one beautifully curious green eye shown from the opening and he listened to the sounds of the older voices coming from outside.

"Dario!" He heard Riddel exclaim, and he noted that she looked genuinely happy when she ran into his arms.

Dario had been the portrait of what a strapping young man should be. At nearly 6'3, the older brother was tall as he was handsome, striking in appearance and attractive in his magnetic personality. With a stern nose and wide, handsomely crafted jaw, the blue of his eyes were the last remaining component to complete the ideal gentleman and his even more ideal profile. With short blonde hair the color of his younger brother's, the resemblance between the two siblings was remarkable and yet distinguishable. Dario was a young man, at the cusp of what would be only the beginning of his greatness, both physically and mentally; Glenn was a boy who would take time blossoming into the man he wanted to emulate.

Riddel, much smaller and daintier than her Dragoonian Knight, fit perfectly against the strong outline of his broad chest and impressive arms as he embraced her in an intimate hug. The two of them together stood at the precipice of beauty, strength, and power, as each were respectively their own people; Riddel, a Lady of the General of the Acacian Dragoons, and Dario, a prospective knight who would soon serve as Acacian Dragoon himself. Her slender body and soft, feminine curves balanced Dario's intimidating exterior well, and together, the two would see great success.

Glenn watched curiously from inside the house as a young child would. In the eyes of a little boy someone even as young as Dario was God. Dario, who wielded great power and commanded greater respect, was the man Glenn wanted to be when he grew up. His admiration knew no bounds, and he stared on, dazzled by his older brother's strength and kindness.

Although it shamed part of Glenn to eavesdrop on his brother's conversation, he was but a child, enamored and intrigued by the seemingly glamorous lives of the older children in town.

"Riddel, to what do I owe this great pleasure?" Dario asked, a handsome smile soaring across his broad face and exposing the gleaming whites of his sharp canines. The ruby red of his beloved's eyes looked up at him affectionately, a smile in her eyes as she answered him.

"You know my father is leaving today for the nation of Porre." Dario's thickly groomed brows became stern at the mention of their enemy nation, and he nodded gravely down at Riddel. "And you know he may not return for some time." Again Dario nodded. "Well I want to send him with a farewell memento, to always think of me when he is away."

At this Dario smiled, resting his hands on her shoulders as he said,

"Well then I think that is a wonderful idea. What did you have in mind?" Riddel looked to Dario brightly, barely containing her excitement.

"Bellflowers!" She finally revealed, giddy and girly as she squealed beneath his large hands.

"Bellflowers?" Dario's voice was skeptical, and at this Riddel frowned, disheartened by his lack of reaction. Pushing at his chest lightly with her hand she scowled up at him, and Dario smiled inwardly at how pretty she looked even when she was cross with him.

"Why do you look so disproving? They are your very favorite flower, and I thought because you liked them so much, father was sure to love them just as much. _I _thought it was a nice gesture." At this Dario could not help but laugh lightly under his breath, the blue in his eyes twinkling. "Why do you laugh at me, Dario? It is not funny."

Riddel continued, her lips in a pout as her hair tumbled over her shoulders. Dario gently touched a lock of her hair, letting it drip between his fingers as he played with it affectionately.

"Why are you so pretty even when you are angriest with me?" Riddel rolled her eyes at him, her lashes fluttering as she felt Dario nuzzle his nose into her neck. At this display, Glenn very forcefully smacked his hand over his eyes, peeking sparsely between his fingers before shutting his eyes tight again. He hated when they were so affectionate and he often thought grown-ups were particularly difficult to figure out.

"I'm not angry, I'm disappointed. I thought for sure you would have been happy." Again he laughed that, charming, chivalrous, gentleman's laugh that made the girls swoon and Riddel melt.

"I am happy."

"Then why do you laugh?" She asked seriously, putting distance between them as she pushed him back with her hands on his chest.

"Because; my dear Riddel, it is too cold for Bellflowers to bloom." Her pretty features twisted in genuine disappointment, and Dario smiled down at her fondly. "Come now, I'm sure we can arrange another bouquet for your father. After all, any gift from you is a gift to be treasured."

Glenn had disappeared from the door when Riddel looked up at Dario and shook her head no.

"But I _have _seen bellflowers in this season. It is not yet winter and only just a little cold."

"I'm telling you, Riddel, it is too cold. Come with me to the florist and I'll help you-"

"Well then I am going to find some." Dario's hands slid off of her shoulders and he stood in front of her looking incredulous. When his Lady set her mind to something she did not often let it lay to rest.

"Find some where? Stop being so unreasonable, you're not twelve, you're fifteen."

"Well, I will look anyway. And I will start with the graveyard."

"Riddel, it is not wise to go there. It is not a place for the living and if you have no business with the dead I would not disturb this terrain." Termina's graveyard was a place for the spirits of the otherworld to rest peacefully, and its people did not take the trespassing over dead bodies lightly.

"I have seen the bellflower bloom there before. I only want to check, Dario." Dario sighed, frustrated with his girlfriend's persistence.

"Sometimes you are too stubborn." She smiled playfully before she answered.

"Well then I learn it from you." And with that she darted from the gated yard, down the path towards Main Street where she would eventually find her way to the graveyard.

Dario sighed and thought to himself that Riddel certainly swept in a storm wherever she went, but upon reflection, it was what he loved most about her.

With the sword in his hand Dario practiced hard against the straw doll replicated to look like a Porre Officer. Only 20 minutes had gone by before Riddel returned. He sheathed his sword, his chest rising and falling attractively, and he looked upon his love.

"I see you return empty handed."

"There were none to be found. The grave keeper bid me well wishes in my search but said he had not seen any bellflowers for several weeks now." She walked solemnly over to Dario, who snaked his arm around her shoulders and held her close.

"The gravel there at this time is too dead to grow flowers, Riddel." She sulked for a moment, her head resting against the comforting chest of Dario, before she looked up at him. He recognized the same conviction in her eyes that he trained with, and prepared for another elaborate plan.

"Then I will check the shores of Termina, by the docks." To Dario's chagrin she left and returned, empty-handed once more. This time he stood panting from labor, his face even more appealing as it huffed and puffed under physical endurance. He wished she would not get her hopes up so blindly.

"Riddel, it is too sandy to grow bellflowers on the shore. Give up this fool's errand and come to the florist's with me already." She was adamant, however; beautifully adamant and headstrong, and she left to check once more at the florists.

He continued dealing blows to the straw doll, his confidence growing with each strike. Upon her final return sweat dripped from Dario's forehead. He approached her in only his undershirt, wiping a well-toned forearm against his forehead.

"I checked the florist's… she had none." Dario's face was kind and sorry for her loss. He put a hand on her back and rubbed it gently.

"I told you, Riddel… it is too cold for bellflowers." She nodded, resigned to the fact that her boyfriend was right, and sighed a deep sigh.

"I have to return home soon, father will be leaving."

"Then let me take you to get a bouquet. It may not be the one you want, but it will be just as nice." She smiled faintly. Although Dario seemed at times capable of anything, there were some things he could not do, like pick her a bellflower at the start of winter.

Pulling his sweater over his torso, he put his arm around her and readied to leave for the florist's, when suddenly, Glenn came running out of their house, yelling wildly for "Lady Riddel."

Turning around Riddel's eyes fell on Dario's little brother first, and on the small bouquet of flowers in his hand second.

"Wait! Lady Riddel! Dario! Hold on!" Huffing and puffing he anxiously held out a bouquet of beautiful paper flowers, cut perfectly into the shape of the legendary bellflower and tied primly with trailing, curling silken ribbon. The petals blossomed with iridescent glitter and caught the sun so magnificently one would believe they held the real thing.

Riddel's eyes went wide; her fingers gingerly touched her lips and for a moment, she simply stared. Dario looked down on his brother with brimming affection and thought; _he will make a fine man one day._

"These are for you, Riddel." She stepped away from Dario towards Glenn and smiled that beautiful, breathtaking smile Glenn had been so transfixed by. Her eyes were honest and kind, and he felt in his heart she did not patronize or indulge him, but truly appreciated his makeshift gift. "It is never too cold for bellflowers."

With her hands in the crook of her lap she leaned forward and said,

"Thank you, Glenn. I will never forget this kindness." She left him with a single kiss on his cheek, and very soon Glenn's smile was overtaken by his crimson blush.

Riddel walked away with Dario, smelling the paper petals in her hand as though they were real, and looked up at Dario with a glint in her eyes.

He quirked his eyebrow as if to ask her what she wanted to say, and she responded to his question by saying,

"It is never too cold for bellflowers..." Dario only laughed, and thought to himself, he still had so much to learn from his little brother.

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**Author's Note: Well, this turned out pretty well I guess. There are a lot of things I wonder if I should have done differently, and sometimes I feel like I failed in accurately capturing the brother-brother relationship, but it is what it is for now. Not too bad, not too great, it sits somewhere in the middle. Let me know what you think by kindly leaving a review for me, it would be most appreciated. Thanks!**


	2. A Soldier's Soliloquy

**A/N: So, I didn't realize this Advent Challenge meant we were supposed to update the **_**same story! **_**Oops. Either way, I can roll with it. So, from here on out, this story will be a short collection of one-shots centering around either Dario, Glenn, Riddel, or Karsh throughout various years in their life. They don't follow a particular order and are mostly snapshots of different moments in time for each of the characters. Enjoy!**

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"That's enough!" screamed the mediator who oversaw the Dragoon's training. Dario stood at the center of the arena, sword in hand after having just ripped into the armor of his opponent. The two men stood, Dario already at attention while his adversary staggered to his feet, and shook hands as a show of sportsmanship and courtesy.

"Good match," the nameless soldier-in-training mumbled while Dario removed his helmet, exposing a head of trimly kept blazing blonde hair that stuck this way and that from the sweat of battle. His face was flushed and he nodded, quiet as he walked off and aware of the scrutiny he faced from the mediator of the match.

"Watch yourself next time. You could have put him in a coma," said the mediator, a firm hand on Dario's arm. Dario only nodded abidingly, respectful as he always was, even under the disproval of his mentors.

Climbing to his chambers, he sighed at the relief of no longer having to perform. The pressure of being the perfect soldier was at times too much for a young boy of only 19 to handle, but as Dario was considered a young man at that age, he struggled gallantly and admirably to attain the ever unattainable reputation of the ideal Dragoon. While he would never cast his dream of achieving the rank of Great Diva Dragoon aside, he did allow himself the leisure of relaxing even for just a moment in his off time when he was not being watched.

Setting his helmet down on his bed he took to taking his clothes off. The first layer of metal and mythril were stripped from his body before he stood in his bedroom in only his trousers and undershirt. It felt good to lessen the load and remind himself of what it felt like to be human before warrior, before the solider in training. It felt good to be Dario instead of future Knight of Viper Manor.

His chest rose and fell as he recovered from the loss of breath battle so often stole from him, and he ran a hand through his thick blonde hair as he let his head fall back. Removing that last layer of clothing he revealed a large gash in the side of his stomach where his opponent had cut his armor and broke skin. It was not a pretty cut and he winced as he went to touch it. He had never, not even for a moment, let on to his enemy that he had been hurt, but the wound went deep and his body ached.

Dario was a handsome man, a strong man whose capabilities were endless, but at the end of the day, it was easy for him to forget in all of his youth and strength, that he was also human.

He stood at a staggering 6'3, and even as he stood injured and inflicted with pain, he seemed a statue of men among men. He was particularly attractive and typically stood out among the rest of his peers, even from a young age, and at the peak of his physicality, he shown especially bright among the ranking soldiers.

His handsome face and striking features seemed a thing of exaggeration, and the blue of his eyes appeared so deep and reflective of his soul it seemed impossible to find him disagreeable. His hair was fair and his skin was beat with the rays of long, laborious days spent in the sun. He had the body of a young man whose appreciation for old fashioned, manual labor did not fall to waste or ruin, and the strength of his arms was enhanced tenfold by the sincerity and generosity that stirred in his eyes. The lines of his face were sharp and authoritative; the face of a leader and a ruler, and the build of his body seemed sturdy; a dependable, unbreakable appearance that was comforting, admirable, and enviable nearly all together and all at once.

Dario was, in essence, the ideal man. His looks preceded him and his words sustained him. He was a man built upon a reliable foundation, and that was exactly the man he strived to reflect: a steadfast man of dependability. However, for as arrestingly handsome and remarkably intelligent as he was, he was plagued with fears, doubts, and insecurities.

As he stood in his room, bare-chested and tired, he remembered the people he left behind in Termina while he embarked on this pilgrimage towards knighthood and valor: His father, his brother, and his most dearly beloved. It was for them he so surely set forth on this journey towards heroism. Like his father, he wanted to be a great warrior, and for his brother, he wanted to be a respected symbol of good, and for his girlfriend, he wanted to be a valiant protector. All these things inspired him, motivated him, scared him and helped him. In all of these people Dario instilled his own dreams for his future and for theirs, and he hoped now, in this moment of weakness and isolation in his chambers where he lay hurt and wounded, that he would someday fulfill these dreams and become the man he always aspired to be.

He lay on his bed tired and weary after having bandaged his cut and closed his eyes. Soon, the fruits of his labors would pay off and his dreams and goals would eventually come to fruition. Until that moment, however, Dario swore to himself that next time, he would not be so quick to prove his superiority in battle lest he wanted to suffer another blow to his armor and to his body.

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**A/N: So, I'm not particularly proud of this piece, but... I don't know really what else to say about it. It was mostly just shameless eye-candy for the girls on the site and a way of getting to know the physical and visual dimension of one of the central characters I'll be writing about. It didn't come out as poised and smart as I hoped, but then again I wrote this randomly at 1:30 in the morning. (I don't know why I get my flashes of inspiration at the most ungodly of hours.) Don't take this too seriously, like I said, it's meant to be more visually stimulating than anything else. It also fulfills the prompt of dream, which is kind of cool I guess. Please review everyone, thanks!**


	3. Confectionary Confliction

**A/N: So this chapter was a sort of self-challenge to myself to try and confine myself to mostly dialogue only. I did this because I feel I am too heavy handed with the narration at times, and I really wanted to be rigid with this piece. It's short and light, but I had fun writing it. Enjoy.**

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"We're back," called Dario from the front door.

"What did you get, what did you get?" yelled an anxious Glenn bounding down the stairs. His hair was mussed as he came to a standstill in front of his older brother and Riddel.

"Hot cocoa for everyone," Dario replied as Riddel held up a tray of Termina's finest brewed hot chocolate, a gleeful smile on her face as she looked down at Glenn.

"Awww man, hot chocolate?"

"What's the matter Glenn? I thought you liked hot chocolate," asked the soft, feminine voice of Riddel.

"I do, I guess-"

"Then stop being a little brat and thank the lady already, will you."

"Thanks, Riddel." There was a shuffling of feet and bags as Dario made his way into the back of the house before a silence fell over Glenn and Riddel.

"H-here, let me take those for you."

"Thanks Glenn…" Riddel trailed off, her watchful red gaze befalling Glenn. She was quiet before she nudged his shoulder with her own, looking down at the twelve year old. "You'd have preferred something else, huh?"

Glenn's eyes widened, like a child caught being naughty. He didn't want to alarm Riddel and make her think she displeased him. "N-no, no, of course not. Cocoa's great, I love it." She smiled a sweet smile, thinking how complacent he tried to be for her.

"You really _really _don't mind? Not even a little bit," she asked with a playful smile, holding her fingers together to indicate how tiny of a measurement she was talking about.

"No… I don't mind."

"C'mon, you can be honest with me Glenn."

"Well… I don't mind the hot chocolate… honestly…" Riddel looked down at him skeptically and he lowered his head, mumbling quickly "although I would have preferred Viper churros." She laughed at him and noted the mention of his favorite food before the three of them sat around a warm fire and sipped their drinks.

**OOOOO**

"Riddel, what are you doing here? I thought you left for Viper Manor a little while ago?" asked Glenn, who was playing soldier in his front yard.

Riddel walked towards the fence, a small white paper bag in hand, and leaned over it. Glenn always thought she looked pretty with her long violet hair and peculiar red eyes. He walked over to her huffing out of breath.

"Training hard?"

"Gotta catch up to Dario, you know? He says I'm almost as strong as he is."

"Oh really? Is that what he says?"

"Yep."

"Well then a strong boy like you deserves a sort of reward for all your hard work, don't you think so?"

"Do you have something for me?"

"Just a small gift, to make up for earlier." Glenn stared up at Riddel curiously, always delighted when she paid him extra attention, and waited patiently to see what she would pull out of her bag.

"A Viper Churro, no way! But they only sell these at the Termina Fair, where'd you get this?" Riddel handed him the crystalized churro that sparkled with sugar and piped with steam.

"I have my ways."

"Thanks so much Riddel you're the best!" With a mouthful of churro he continued, "This is awesome… mm… del-c-ous," he tried to say but drowned his words out with the churro. Riddel smiled down at him.

"I really do have to get going now, okay Churro King?" He nodded happily and content. "Bye Glenn."

Glenn waved her off in his sweet dreams of sugar crystals and cinnamon bliss.

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**A/N: Well, I hope you liked it. Like I said, this was mostly a challenge to help me write in dialogue only, so I hope it was at least entertaining. Let me know if it was any good, thanks!**


	4. Renegade Rogue

It was almost noon and Riddel was growing bored with her etiquette tutor who droned on about cutlery, class, and correct conduct. She had been born and raised in Viper Manor, a large estate that sat on the seaside bluffs, and had been bred in blue blood, yet her father insisted on continuing her private sessions with ballroom teachers, harpsichord musicians, and language tutors. Her life was a pin board of goals and accomplishments, and though for the most part she very abidingly engaged her father's demands with good graces, she sometimes suffered from the symptoms of teenage weariness and a fierce desire to be free from her binds.

Letting her heart shaped face fall delicately into her hand, she kicked a long leg back and forth in her chair, glancing periodically from the clock to her teacher. She had nearly been convinced that the hands stopped working all together before she caught a flash of brilliant periwinkle blue blaze by the crack in the door. Her eyes went alight, and as she went to sit up she could feel something prodding her in the back.

"Posture, Miss. Viper, a lady never slumps." Riddel only nodded, all too eager to sit up on her own in a vain attempt to strain her neck and see the commotion behind her teacher's back. "And eye contact, Miss. Viper, a lady never breaks eye contact. This is etiquette 101, Riddel, you've known this since you could scarcely speak."

"O-oh, sorry, professor," Riddel replied absent-mindedly, only half glancing at her teacher before looking back to the crack in the door. For a second there was nothing, until moments later the tall figure of one of the four Deva's stepped into her line of sight. It was Karsh, the son of the blacksmith in Termina and Dario's best friend. Tall as he was rogue, Karsh flashed Riddel a wide, brazen smile that showed off the white in his teeth and mischievous glint to his brown eyes. He was ever scheming and ruefully wily, but it was what he considered part of his charm; the rebel warrior without a cause.

Riddel laughed in disbelief at the audacity he had to sit in on her lesson. Her teachers were strict but her father was stricter, and if he so much as detected a hint of Karsh's impish intentions he would personally see to his suspension. However, with Karsh being the slippery shadow that he was, walking the tightrope of rules and regulations on the Viper Estate came easy and somewhat naturally; the challenge appealed to his rebellious nature.

Glancing from her teacher to Karsh and back to her teacher again, she quickly scribbled something on her notebook and held it up to Karsh. It read:

'What are you doing here?' Karsh's smile widened even more and he stifled a laugh. He pointed to Riddel and then pointed to himself before trying to signal to her he wanted to sneak out with her. Her eyes widened incredulously at Karsh's stubborn determination and his knack for breaking the rules. _How did he ever become a Deva, _she wondered to herself.

He motioned for her to hurry up and think of an excuse. Flustered, Riddel looked around her desk, searching for an excuse, but kept coming up empty-handed.

"Miss. Viper, where is your attention today? Is there some pressing matter at hand that I should know about? Is there-" but he was cut off by a loud clanging outside. Riddel startled in her seat and looked frightened at the door.

"N-no, professor, I don't thi-" she tried to ward him away from the door, but it was too late. He was outside and seconds away from probably impaling Karsh with harsh words and severe reprimands. To her surprise, though, he staggered forward. She couldn't hear much of what followed, but he returned to dismiss their class. Puzzled, she looked up at her professor.

"What happened?"

"Patrol duty. They're shutting the entire wing down. You're father wants you in his study, so I'm told." As he gathered his belongings a guard with a heavy armored helmet stepped inside.

"I have orders to escort you to your father's study, Miss. Viper. Follow me." Riddel quickly took her books and followed after the guard, walking in several minutes of silence as they twisted and turned down different hallways.

"Umm, excuse me, sir, but, this is the wrong way."

"I know it is," the voice replied, familiar now in its coy rebuttal. Riddel narrowed her eyes before she reached out and took the helmet off. Long strands of silken bluish purple hair spiraled down the muscular back of Karsh, who walked with the face of a proud con artist.

"Karsh! You're terrible! Did you-" Riddel cut herself off, lowering her voice to more of a whisper as she leaned in to her friend. "Did you lie to my teacher?"

"I didn't _lie _per se, I just… exaggerated the truth a little bit," he replied with a devil's grin. Riddel simmered in silent shock and repulsion at his ever smug attitude; he was incorrigible.

"_Exaggerated _the _truth_? Just how much did you exaggerate it?" She nudged him with her shoulder and he fell forward slightly, laughing as though he were completely unfazed by her questions.

"Well… the guards are definitely on patrol-"

"They're always on patrol."

"Exactly my point. A _slight _exaggeration."

"So a half-lie is just an exaggeration now?"

"So I embellished a little," he finally gave in, rolling his eyes. "It got you out of class and gave me some much needed company." Riddel softened before smiling to herself.

"Where's your partner in crime?"

"Who? Dario? Your boyfriend is far too much like you to habitually break the rules like I do. That's why you need me in your life, to shake things up."

"So where are we going?"

"To the roof. I like it up there. It's quiet and I can think." Riddel looked up at Karsh and thought for all his brash, reckless abandonment, she hoped he never changed. He made her smile and he made her laugh, and most importantly, Dario revered him as a second brother. The three of them were particularly close, and she could see sometimes the inklings of a great warrior and leader stir in his eyes from time to time. She thought he would go very far in this life, and she hoped she would be there to see him flourish with each step he took.

As they made their way out onto the terrace, Karsh glanced down at Riddel. The wind blew his stray hairs past his cheeks, revealing alluring honeyed-brown eyes and wicked but wonderful features. He balanced Dario well, Riddel thought. Like night and day, they thrived off of each other.

"Hey, what are you looking at, Viper?" Riddel tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, a smile fizzing brightly in her port wine eyes.

"You."

"Yeah? What do you see?"

"Someone who is needed." Karsh was silent for a moment, unprepared for the seriousness of her answer.

"By who?" he finally asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

"Everyone you meet." He laughed; she was talking in tongues and he didn't understand what she meant. Sometimes she made him uncomfortable, with her honesty and sincerity. It was hard to ignore the way his stomach stirred and his heart thumped when she was like this, but he liked it all the same.

"Whatever," he laughed, but Riddel could see it, the uncertainty, the inferiority, the struggle to prove his abilities. He deserved to know he was worthy, of his own approval as much as anyone else's, and she wouldn't stand to see him undercut himself.

"I'm glad we're friends Karsh." The wind blew and the air was silent. It seemed in that moment everything stopped for him and for her. He wondered if they could ever be anything more, before violently casting stones at his subconscious for betraying his best friend in such an ugly manner. He forced a smile, but she would not know, he had honed his skills well.

"Yeah, me too Riddel." He swung an arm over her and they sat like that for the afternoon, staring out at endless ocean and enjoying the tranquility of each other's friendship.

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**A/N: Alright. Another chapter down! I kinda feel like Dario has a lot of studs gunning for his woman, huh? I guess, what I was aiming for, was to try and show that despite Karsh's feelings of second-best, his bonds to Riddel and Dario are still strong through friendship. His portrayal in-game to Dario and Riddel is sort of tragic and sad, so I don't know, I guess it's what I tried to achieve, a bitter-sweet resignation to his fate. Drop a line and let me know how it finally turned out. Thanks guys!**


	5. Devas

**A/N: So, it was brought to my attention that the rank of Deva is pretty vague to understand. Since this chapter is titled Deva, I figured I'd address this issue here. The game never properly explains what the rank of Deva entails exactly, but it is generally understood that it is a difficult rank to ascend, and once this rank is achieved, you are a cut above the rest and earn additional status, privilege, and respect. I assume it is also slightly more dangerous. I wish I could elaborate, but this was my understanding of the rank Deva from the game, so that is what I will pass on to you. My apologies for any former confusion, and I hope this cleared any questions up. Enjoy!**

* * *

"Are you sure this is the way?" It was overcast and dreary as Karsh cast a doubtful look towards his partner, Dario. The former stood cold and tired, exhausted from several hours of aimless wandering around dead lands, the latter stood with a cool disposition, quiet as he mused to himself. Both were dressed in traditional Dragoonian armor. "Hey Dario, I'm talkin' to ya!"

Dario flinched as Karsh pelted a small pebble at the side of his helmet. Removing his headgear he looked to his partner and best friend with mild irritation.

"I'm trying to think, Karsh." Karsh laughed, smiling his familiar wicked smile as he let his head fall backwards slightly. The stunning blue of his hair was tied up into a messy ponytail, painting him the rogue he was.

"We've been standing in front of this stupid gate, for what…"

"For ten minutes. How did you ever become a Deva with your non-existent patience?" Dario's criticism was far and few between, but the relationship between himself and Karsh was different in that it allowed Dario flaws, faults, and sarcastic insults he knew he would not be judged for. With Karsh, Dario felt human, and the burdens of knighthood and perfection were a thing of time's past. Together, the young men nurtured the last remnants of their boyhood within each other.

"Ten minutes too long if you ask me. And I didn't become a Deva by standing around all day pondering song and soliloquy."

"What does that even mean, Karsh?"

"It means if we leave it up to you, we're gonna be here all day. And you know I heard Cook's making Heckron stew tonight so I kind of want to finish up here and get back."

Dario sighed, exasperated by his friend's impertinence.

"We're here on a mission, Karsh. We're supposed to clear the area of monsters, we can't leave until we finish what we set out to do, and we can't finish what we set out to do unless I open this gate."

"What kind of a stupid, low-rank mission is this anyway? Shouldn't the new trainees be doing this entry-level shit?" Dario shut his eyes, trying hard to grasp at his fleeting thoughts and ignore the buzzing noise that was Karsh's voice. "I guess we're pretty close to Porre territory, if anything were to happen those trainees wouldn't stand a chance. But still…" he kicked a rock at the gate, "this kinda blows."

"Karsh, for the last time, would you please be quiet?" Although Dario asked politely, the tone of his voice was frustrated and tired; this was not a question but a demand. Karsh sighed, running a hand through his sweaty slick locks before throwing his axe into the ground and sitting on a nearby rock. Several minutes passed in silence; neither of the boys seemed to have new inspirations.

"Hey Dario?" Karsh finally broke the silence, his voice sounding strange and out of place after moments of quiet. Dario looked down at his childhood friend, his eyes softer now as he gave him his attention. "You think I'm a good soldier?" The boldness of the question had surprised Dario, and for a moment, he forgot about the ivy-covered gate.

"Of course I think you're a good soldier. I think you're a superior soldier, everyone does. Do you doubt yourself, Karsh?"

Karsh was silent. He internalized most of his self-doubt and fear, but intermittent moments in life served him with the reservations he tried hard to stifle. He was confident in his strength and cocky in his confidence, he was assured of his technicality and had proven his worth, but the merit of his manhood sometimes felt infinitesimal compared to the caliber of soldier Dario was. His best friend seemed likened to the Gods at times, in Karsh's eyes and in others, and he wondered sometimes if out of the four Devas, Dario mattered most.

Dario could see the fear begin to shroud the brilliant honey of his best friend's eyes, and he knelt down beside him and put a strong hand on his shoulder. Karsh's silence allowed Dario to speak again.

"Karsh, you are a strong warrior, a valiant soldier, and one of the brightest Deva's of our time. But you know none of that matters if you are not a good man, and a better friend. We make each other who we are, my friend, and if it were not for your zeal and zest for life, I would certainly be less than half the man I am today. If you believe me to be great, then do me the honor of knowing that my greatness is only as much as the people I surround myself with." Karsh looked into his best friend's eyes, searching its depths and understanding truly that Dario was a man of his word. A handsome smile danced its away across Karsh's face before he put his other hand on Dario's shoulder.

"But I'll never be as poetic as you," he said, laughing at his friend's heroic prose. "I want you to give the speech at my funeral, ya know, just in case I kick it before you." Dario dropped his head, shaking it in disbelief as he smiled at his friend's humor.

"Karsh-"

"No, I mean it, only you could make dying sound so… poetic. Anyone else would just fuck it up." Dario stood up, still smiling. Karsh took his axe and stood beside him.

"Hey," he started, squinting at the center of the door. "Did you try the handle?" Dario looked towards the gate, skeptical as he stepped forward.

"What are you talking about, there is no handle."

"You sure about that," Karsh murmured, fingering the handle before the two men heard a click. Karsh looked back to his friend, arrogant and smug as he pushed the gate open with one hand. "I guess you were right after all, I'm clearly the superior Deva."

Dario rolled his eyes, stalking past Karsh, half embarrassed at his mistake, but not before responding,

"Clearly, Karsh, you're just a diva." Dario snickered at his own play on words, however childish it may have been, and Karsh ran after him, singing his praise with each monster slain and reveling in his inflated ego.


	6. Church Bells

The church bells of Termina's looming cathedral echoed between buildings and bounded off boardwalks in a brilliant sort of hypnotic lull. The tinkering sounds of chimes and whistles sung songs of pretty praise and tradition. Delicate folds of rice paper and flower petals garnished the steps of the church as a bustle of white tulle and a figure draped in black spilled forth from the ornate cathedral doors.

From his back window, Karsh could see the church and cobble stoned pathway that lead up to it. Small houses dotted its sides and he strained to peak over the rooftops towards the commotion. His chin rested on his folded arms after a short while and he stared aimlessly out of the window.

"Someone's getting married," he finally remarked. Riddel, who had been sitting opposite him on the settee at the foot of his bed, looked up at her friend. She had been writing something in a journal, her legs crossed as a billowy chiffon dress teased hints of her supple skin.

"Really?"

"Yep, just outside the window. Can't you hear the bells?" Riddel smiled, the chiming sound of cathedral bells had been a favorite song of hers.

"I thought they were the twelve o'clock bells. I like to listen to them when I come in to town to visit. We can't hear them at the Manor, but they're such a treat to listen to." Karsh laughed and looked over at Riddel. She had grown since the last time he saw her, which wasn't even that long ago. She never got to visit as often as she liked, but when she did, she always wanted to return to where he and Dario spent the better part of their childhood: near the blacksmith where his parents labored away.

She had gotten taller, he noted, and he didn't think she had much left to grow in her bones. Her body seemed shapelier than he remembered, and her legs looked longer. He cast his eyes over a stray piece of clothing that was sitting on his floor to distract himself away from her other burgeoning assets. Her eyes, though still wide and bounding with life, saw new things, new experiences, and new secrets. They were alluring now and not as innocent, they were eyes of a blossoming woman.

She had gone back to scribbling in her notebook, and he wondered to himself, what thoughts did she record? He hated that he longed to be more intimate with her than he knew would ever be possible, but he spurred a deep love in his chest that he hardly thought could be extinguished. He relished moments like these, when it was just the two of them, not for the hole in his heart he hoped to fill, but for the companionship Riddel had satisfied within him.

Karsh smiled as he looked back up at her, a finger at his lips thoughtfully before he spoke again.

"Hey, Riddel?" She looked up at him again.

"Hmm?" she softly hummed out.

"Would you marry Dario if he asked you?" Riddel was quiet for a moment. It seemed a particularly heavy question for such a light morning. The sun from the window cast rays of glimmering honey through Karsh's hair, weaving in and out of his periwinkle locks like slithering, saccharine nectar. Sometimes he was more beautiful than the fairest maidens in Termina.

"I think so," she said gently, but with a hesitation Karsh did not fail to recognize. She smiled faintly and looked at her friend. "What's with the sudden philosophizing? It's not like there's a rush right? We're all still young." Karsh noted her light laughter, and he wondered if it was an attempt to lessen the gravity of the question. He knew Riddel was in love with Dario, but he thought maybe she faltered in how far reaching her love stretched. _She _was young, she was right, but Dario was older, nearly a man by his soldier's status. When Dario confided to him privately, Karsh got the strong feeling that Dario would marry Riddel tomorrow if he could.

"I think Dario would marry you at a moment's notice, to be perfectly honest." He saw the crimson creep into Riddel's cheeks. She always blushed when people told her of Dario's affections for her. "He loves you a lot, you know. He'd probably die for you, if he had to." Riddel stared intently at Karsh, who lowered his eyes to the floor. She wondered where his wily side had wandered off to. It was not common for Karsh to be so serious.

Sometimes Karsh looked so sad to Riddel, and she couldn't be certain as to the cause. His eyes dimmed and the honey color she loved so much went out completely. The luster of his sateen hair dulled and he seemed nothing but a faded boy, chasing glory he felt he never deserved. She couldn't quite be sure why, but something about the way he spoke made her feel like he wasn't only talking about Dario.

"A lover isn't the only person who can have such strong ties to someone. Loyalty transcends romance, you know, and for what it's worth, I think friendships are like relationships sometimes. You have to work at making things work, but in the end, a friend would do anything for another friend." She didn't know why she felt the need to comfort Karsh somehow. He hadn't done or said anything in particular that betrayed his inner most feelings, but something about the way he looked, so angelically solemn, had made her want to reach out and comfort him with her words. Karsh was a strange soul like that, for as strong and enduring as he was in battle, he was just as fragile in life.

He only laughed half-heartedly at what she had to say, and Riddel sighed, defeated, as she looked back down at her book. Karsh was a tortured sort of spirit, and she wished more than anything to be able to fix him, to be able to help him, but it seemed neither her nor Dario could ease some of his sufferings.

"You know… I'd do the same thing for you, Riddel. If it really came down to it all, I'd protect you till the end." She looked up again.

"Karsh…" It was hard to ignore the meaning behind his words, and the severity of the situation rendered her speechless. He cracked a smile at seeing her grapple at her words.

"But it's not like I have to or anything. Dario is ready to throw his life down pretty much every given day of the week." He laughed to keep from crying, and looked back out of the window. Riddel wondered what he was thinking.

They stayed like that for a short while before Karsh felt the warm touch of feminine hands on his shoulders. He looked to his right, surprised by Riddel's presence, and stared her up and down. She smiled at him, that sweet, soft smile he loved more than he could ever let her know. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders as she leaned in to him, intoxicating him with her scent and smothering him with her affection.

"You know, I don't know if I would marry Dario right now. I'm sixteen… I have a lot to see, a lot to do, before I become somebody's wife. But I do know that I love him very much, and I do know that I love you very much. Now I don't want any more talk of death, or marriage, or anything, because we should live for the present, Karsh, not the past or the future. We're all here now, and that's what matters most." He smiled at her sincerity, she was always so genuine. "I'm here with you now." His smile widened.

"Yeah, I guess you are."

"We're here together, that's what's important, don't you think?" Karsh thought for a moment; it was important. Being with Riddel was like being with an old friend. She was someone he could trust and love and depend on, no matter what would come to pass.

"Yeah, we're here together." Riddel slumped against his shoulder content, looking out the window towards the wedding party that was becoming more distant. The church bells chimed again and Karsh resigned himself to loving Riddel the best way he knew how, even if it meant not loving her the way he wanted. She was his friend, and his friend she would remain, even through the most distant church bells that were sure to come.


	7. Fluff and Other Demons

"Where's the birthday girl?" Karsh, dressed in a dapper black on black suit with a violet colored silk tie, had approached his best friend under the elegantly dimmed lighting of the ballroom. Floating lanterns emanated a warm, hazy amber glow throughout the grand hall, and hoards of people dressed in diamonds and pearls, silks and chiffons, shuffled back and forth amid a lavish spring's night.

Dario, who looked the picture of his usual debonair self, stood strapping and handsome in a corner. He held a drink in his hand and sipped it coolly, his blue eyes burning bright against the tan of his skin and the onyx shine to his suit. His lapels dazzled like glossy gossamer and the silver pendant ring, passed down from his father to himself, twinkled brilliantly beneath the shimmer and shine of the lantern's dim light.

He looked only slightly older and infinitely wiser, standing calm and collected as a twenty year old who was slowly transitioning into manhood. Dario shifted his gaze onto his best friend, who had grown ever stronger and more handsome himself, and yet who also remained as youthful and infectious as ever. He quirked a thickly groomed, blonde eyebrow, and asked,

"Riddel?"

"Yeah, where's the lady of the hour? I thought she'd be with you." Dario shook his head, taking another sip from his drink.

"She hasn't come downstairs yet. I guess she wants to_ make an appearance,_" he mocked playfully, shaking his head.

"Doesn't really sound like her, though. You gonna check up on her or something?"

"I'm too busy keeping the hordes of diplomats and politicians at bay who want to sink their teeth into her political agenda," Dario responded, only half succeeding at hiding his repulsion.

"Yeah, why'd Viper invite all these stiffs anyway? Place looks great but I want to dance, and half the invite list looks like they got one foot in the grave." Karsh laughed more than he should have at his own joke, thoroughly entertained by himself. Dario smirked, his one dimple betraying his handsome masculinity and suggesting a more boyish appeal that was still very much alive in him.

"Keeping up appearances?" Dario suggested.

"Man, we should really throw her our own party, know what I mean? We could take her to Termina and hit up Main Street and eat Squid Gut Pasta till we pass out." Dario smiled at the thought. Things grew more convoluted and complicated with each day, each month, each year they got older. It wasn't just them anymore, Riddel, himself, and Karsh; it was the Lady of Viper Manor and the two Devas; it was business. Glenn, at only thirteen years old, had already started his training, and the impending invasion of the Porre Military seemed just off of the horizon. Things seemed to be getting so dire it was hard to even enjoy a simple celebration; a birthday party. The only thing that kept him motivated was Karsh, his partner in life and in war, who, through hard times and good times, consistently made him smile. Karsh continued,

"Maybe we should find Glenn. He's around here somewhere, right?" Dario nodded his head. "He might know where she is, he's always up her ass about something." At this, Dario laughed handsomely, a deep, baritone voice barreling out of his mouth as he put his drink down.

"Usually Viper Churros," Dario added, and Karsh laughed, because it was true; Glenn was always bothering her for a Viper Churro. The two boys agreed to look for Glenn, and soon their search lead them to the private upstairs quarters of Viper Manor.

After wandering the hallways for a few minutes, they found the growing blonde sitting cross legged outside a bathroom door.

"Hey, soldier," Karsh called out to him. "What're you doing up here?" Glenn looked up from the notepad he was drawing in and looked at his brother and Karsh. His face was changing, slowly but surely, and losing just hints of its baby fat. His eyes were still those same bright green jewels, but his neck seemed to stretch, tall and long and handsome. From the way his limbs were sprawled out underneath him, he had grown a little bit.

"Waiting for Riddel." Karsh clicked his tongue against his cheek and nudged Dario.

"What'd I tell ya? Find Glenn, find your girl. What's she doing in there?"

"Luccia wanted to try one of her experiments out on Riddel's hair. It was supposed to… I don't remember, do something. Now her hair looks… fluffy." Karsh stifled a laugh with a fist to his chest.

"Fluffy? It looks fluffy? She must be horrified," Karsh stated the obvious.

"Is she inside?" Dario interjected with a familiar, soft, familial voice he often took with his little brother. Glenn nodded.

"I didn't want to leave her, she feels really bad. I was gonna come down and get you in a second if she didn't come out." Dario walked over to his brother and offered his hands to him. Glenn took them and pulled himself up to his feet.

"Thanks, Glenn," Dario finished, ruffling his brother's hair around. Glenn made a face before waving the two boys off and heading back towards the party. He had been relieved of his duties, and he was quite thankful for it; girl problems were beyond his range.

Karsh leaned against the door, side-smiling like a wily coyote, and banged on it lightly with his fist before calling out to her.

"So I here you look like an electrified cat. Is it true?" At that he felt a swift blow to his stomach from the back of Dario's hand, who looked on at Karsh as though he were crazy, his blue eyes aglow and mad.

"I look terrible!" Came the soft squeak of Riddel's panicked voice from behind the door. "And I'm not coming out. You can tell that to my dad, Karsh, while you're telling him I look like an electrified possum." Again, Karsh had to stifle a laugh as he leaned his head against the door.

"Well… I actually said 'cat,' not 'possum.'" Karsh doubled over, unable to take his own jokes as Dario pushed him aside and leaned against the door.

"Riddel? It's me. Just let me in, I'm sure it's not-"

"It is, it's horrible! I look… crazy, I look like a crazy, deranged birthday girl who dresses up every year waiting for her guests to show up, but they never do. I look like _that _kind of crazy." Dario couldn't help but smile a little to himself at his girlfriend's description. Riddel was usually very mild and well mannered, soft and tender, but like most people, she had her moments of weakness and frivolity. Her dramatic reaction reminded him of their age, of their youth and vigor, and it reminded him that they were all three of them still so young, prone to stupidities and nonsenses only the three of them could cherish. She reminded him that they were not like those people downstairs, prim and proper and perfect, they were flawed and irrational sometimes, and they were all the more human for it.

When Dario spoke to her this time, his voice softened.

"Riddel… let me in, just let me see. I'm sure you're beautiful."

Karsh rolled his eyes before responding,

"You're a terrible liar."

"Would you... go somewhere?" Dario had asked, amused and annoyed by his friend's antics. Karsh turned the corner down the hallway, still laughing to himself.

"Riddel… it's me, it's just me. Come on… what can be that bad that you can't show me?" She was silent. "You showed Glenn… that's kind of a burn." Silence again, and then a click. The door opened to reveal a beautifully dressed Riddel. She looked stunning in a jewel toned purple gown, but her hair was wild and frizzy and everything one would imagine out of a bad 70's movie. It was Dario's turn to go quiet.

"You think I look hideous." Dario smiled, sheepishly, and stuck a foot in the doorway before she could close it on him. "I mean, it _is _hideous. I look like… I look like the monster from Lockness Lake, I might as well be a Yetti." Dario stepped forward, his smile widening as he let the door fall shut, and wrapped his arms around her tiny waist. She pouted.

"Did you know I have a thing for Yettis? And did you know, not all of them are big and hairy and scary. Some of them," he trailed off, kissing her neck despite her protests, "are actually quite sexy." Riddel smiled against her better judgment.

"That's bestiality, Dario." He laughed hot breath onto her neck, stinging her with his lips and soothing her worries with his gentle touch.

"Whatever," he responded, smiling into her neck as he hugged her tighter to his chest. "My point is… I think you look beautiful tonight." Riddel smiled; her panic subsided, and she turned in Dario's arms to look up at him.

"I look silly," she said in a quiet voice, still smiling up at him playfully. "Glenn said my hair looked fluffy."

"Fluffy's not so bad," he answered her, fingering the frizzy curls dotingly. Riddel could only look up at him adoringly; he had loved everything about her, even on her birthday during a bad hair day. "I think we could work with fluffy."

"Dario?" He looked down at her; her smooth neck stretched and showed off dainty collar bones, her eyes fizzed like sparkling wine, and her lips looked plump and plush, _kissable, _he thought. "I love you."

Dario smiled before he leaned in to steal a kiss.

"Happy birthday, Riddel." She smiled and pulled him down by his tie into another kiss, forgetting her bad hair and forgetting herself from the world for just a few moments. Every year with Dario was enough to make her birthday special, and she savored his taste a little while longer, celebrating her birthday away from the throng of guests and with the one person she wanted to be with most.


	8. The Night the Lights Burned Bright

Dario watched from the window of his old childhood home as his little brother trained hard with real steel and metal. He recalled a time when they both fought with wooden swords against straw dolls, but it seemed the time for child's play had long been laid to rest. Together, the two brothers had moved permanently into Viper Manor under the liege of General Viper. Dragoons were expected to live like a band of brothers, sleeping, eating, and living all under the same roof. With Glenn the newest recruit to the Manor to undergo training, they had certainly taken leaps and bounds forward from where they had started, and yet, to Dario at least, things seemed so much simpler when they were both younger. Despite the poverty they sometimes were faced with, the hopes and dreams and innocence that flourished within their young souls seemed incomparable to the glory of death they were prepared for in training.

He watched the gangly legs of his little brother, who had not seemed so little anymore, and was aware of all the physical changes taking place in Glenn. Though not fully overcome by the hormones and insecurities and growth spurts puberty entails, Dario remembered his own foray into adulthood, and could see the changes taking shape within Glenn. Glenn was nearly as tall as Riddel now, standing at almost an inch below her at five foot six, and Dario could see years of generational strength and endurance beginning to bourgeon.

He sighed. A part of him was flattered by Glenn's admiration and idolization of him, but another part had wanted something different for him, something more. Dario himself had become a warrior because of his father, but he wondered sometimes if the business of selfless service of knighthood was necessary as a family business. With each year he became more aware of the dangers of being a knight, and with each year he grew weary of the impending death promised to them all. As the surviving eldest man in the family, he supposed it was only natural to want a future filled with promise and life for his little brother.

Metal clanged on metal in the front yard where Zippa and Zappa had lovingly erected a suit of armor for Glenn to practice with when he visited on the weekends. The sounds of gnashing steel became harder to endure as Dario sat in the silence of their simple log cabin, and after a few more moments, he stood up.

"It's getting kind of late, don't you think?" Dario had asked Glenn as he stepped outside. It was cold, and his breath caught the air like a fisherman's net over water. Glenn looked up, tired, and he stood up straight as Dario walked over.

"Gotta get my practice in." Dario was quiet before he swiftly pilfered the sword from Glenn's hand and sliced the armor's metal helmet clear off his shoulders. Glenn stared wide-eyed.

"Like that? You have to practice the art of death?" Glenn took his own helmet off, his blonde hair sweaty and sticky as it took the shape of the helmet, and the green in his eyes looked alarmed. "You'll have plenty of time for death when you're older, Glenn. Right now you're just a trainee. Despite what they may say at the Manor, there is nothing glorious in dying, nor is there any beauty in taking a life. The sword is not a right, Glenn, it is a privilege and a responsibility, and you must wield it in defense, not in violence. " Glenn was silent. If he had been younger he may have had more words for his older brother, more inquiries and opinions, but the threshold of puberty and the lost land of limbo where children became teenagers pigeonholed his tongue to his mouth, and instead he only nodded.

Dario's eyes softened on the disappointed face of his younger brother, and he thought perhaps this was not the right moment for a lesson in life and death. Perhaps, instead, this was a moment for brothers. Putting a comforting hand to the back of Glenn's neck, Dario said,

"Hey, I'm sorry. I just… don't want you so eager to run off and die, you know?" He laughed, and Glenn faltered with a familiar boyish smile. "It's dark. How about you get changed and I take you somewhere?" Glenn's eyes lit up. It had been a long time since the two brothers had done anything really recreational or entertaining. Most of their time consisted of training and fighting in the Manor, and the remnants of Glenn's childhood glittered and glimmered under his big brother's nurturance.

With a promise made, Glenn had changed and the two boys had set out with each other. Dario had taken Glenn out of Termina, and eventually, the two of them ascended the summit of a mild sized hill; not big enough to be considered a mountain, but not small enough to be considered a slope, it was perfectly nestled over the seaside town they had been raised in.

"Where are we?" Glenn had asked. Dario settled onto a blanket he lain out on the grass and held his knees to his chest, waiting for his brother to get comfortable beside him.

"We're on Dragon's Dome, the first recorded peak a Dragon was slain, some hundreds of years ago." Glenn looked up at his brother, dazzled by his story-telling even after all these years. "It makes for a great lookout now, you can see the entire city of Termina."

Dario had leaned into Glenn, shoulder to shoulder, and pointed out over the city. Glenn looked, and in front of him was a sprawling landscape of glowing lights, like reflections of the stars. The lights fizzed and dimmed, sparkled and shined like the glittering scales of mermaids. Termina had never looked so beautiful, he thought, and he had never been so happy.

"It's beautiful, right? The lights at night." Glenn nodded, too entranced by the display of dancing flames to say much of anything. His life since he turned thirteen had been measured in combat and skill. The night lights had reminded him of everything he used to love, not so long ago.

"Hey, Dario?"

"Yeah?"

"Is it true?"

"Is what true," he asked, looking down confused.

"The story about the dragon? Was he really killed here?"

"I don't know… maybe. Why?" Glenn looked pensive before he answered.

"Because I don't want to kill things, when I become a Knight. I want to be like you, and use my sword to protect the ones I love, not kill the ones I hate." Dario looked down at his brother, strangely moved by his ability to grasp such adult themes. He was touched that Glenn had put so much faith in him to believe he would never use his blade selfishly. He put his arm around Glenn and held him to his side.

"Someday Glenn, you'll do great things. Your sword won't be a weapon but a gift, and I know out of every man I know, you'll use your gift wisest. Someday… you'll have to protect me, you know? You'll have to be strong for both of us, and when that day comes, I'll know a better person couldn't have been picked than you." Glenn smiled and rested his head on his big brother's shoulder. The future was scary, but the present was sweet and calm. In his brother's arms he knew he was safe, but he anticipated the day he could embrace Dario and put his own demons to rest.

Sighing in contentment, Glenn closed his eyes and thought, even when he couldn't see the night lights, he would never forget them.


	9. Once a Cowboy, Always a Cowboy

"I thought you weren't supposed to gamble anymore?" A curious looking Glenn looked up from his training manual.

"I told you, it's not gambling, it's a 'raffle'," Karsh responded absent-mindedly, pushing his way through the throng of people to get to the blackjack table. Glenn sighed, he was thirteen now, not three, and he wondered how it was Karsh could be so smart and yet so stupid at the same time.

"I know what blackjack is, Karsh. My dad used to play it with your dad, all the time. And I know what a raffle is." Karsh sighed and turned around, squatting down not nearly as much as he remembered having to crouch, and put his hands on Glenn's shoulders.

"Listen, Glenn, right now, it's a 'raffle,' plain and simple. Can you go with that?"

Glenn had to think for a moment about Karsh's words.

"You want me to lie when Dario asks where you were?" Glenn asked. Karsh smirked, looking at the ground as a hoarse laugh escaped his mouth.

"You don't cut corners, do ya kid?" he asked amused, quirking an eyebrow at his best friend's kid brother. Glenn had been growing quick, he just hadn't realized how quick. "Listen, I think you're old enough for me to let you in on a little philosophy of mine, alright?" Glenn nodded, skeptical of Karsh's treacherous scheming. "Lying… is really just another form of telling the truth, right?" Glenn furrowed his eyebrows.

"I don't think so," he responded.

"I'm not finished. So, we're at the Termina Fair, right? There's games and shit here. Raffles _and _gambling. I already participated in a raffle, sooo, if you leave out the blackjack part, you really didn't lie at all, right? You just… left some parts out. You told the truth, just not all of it. There, finito, is your conscious clean now?"

For the first time, Karsh saw cunning and sly understanding slither over Glenn's chubby face, his plump lips snaking into a comprehensive smile as he looked at Karsh.

"I get it."

"You do?"

"Yeah, you want me to lie." Karsh rolled his eyes, standing up as he cut his tethers to Dario's miniature replica of morality and justice. He was just as bad, if not worse, than Dario.

"You're hopeless. You and Dario and your whole family are just... hopeless. Haven't you ever heard of a white lie before?" he asked no one in particular as he tossed his hands up in frustration.

"Lots of soldiers say you're a bad influence on the trainees." At that, Karsh rolled his eyes again. For all of his shrewd and rascal ways of fighting against the fray, Karsh was a good man and, though at times it was hard to see, he was a positive role model of loyalty and respect. Although he could be wild and wily, it was not without balance.

"Lots of soldiers ain't Deva, either, so lots of soldiers can go shove it."

"If I call it a 'raffle,' when Dario comes back, will you let me play?" The honey in Karsh's eyes went wild like fire, flaring up like buzzing beehives at the prospect of passing his honed skills of gambling down to Glenn. For as wide as the age gap could sometimes be, Dario always included Glenn in most everything they did, and Karsh revered him as a brother as much as he revered Dario. A wicked side smile flashed across Karsh's face before he responded.

"You good at hiding?"

"Hiding?"

"Yeah, like… creeping in the background or something? I think I got a little job you'd be perfect for." Glenn looked curious, like he usually was, and listened to Karsh's scheme.

**OOOOOOOOOO**

By the time Karsh had finished with his climactic twentieth or so round of blackjack, most of the table had cleared out with empty pockets. The dealer stood behind the table, impressed with Karsh's skill, before dismissing the final round and closing down the stand.

Karsh sat, counting his money, surrounded by a stack of various dollar bills.

"How'd I do?" Glenn bounded over, eager to see how well he performed. Karsh smiled a wide, nearly paternally proud smile as he pulled him under his arm and kissed the side of his head.

"How'd you do? How do you think you did, my boy? We're practically goddamn royalty." Glenn smiled. It had been Karsh's idea to swindle the dealer out of his cards, but it had been Glenn's genius that decided how they would go about getting a good look at them. His stealth training had certainly paid off, and in combination with the fair's minimal security, the two of them had cleaned the house out like a pair of thieving bandits.

A low whistle came from behind Karsh as he rejoiced with his partner in crime.

"Where did you get all that money from?" Karsh turned around; it was Dario.

"Uhhh…." He stammered, looking for the right words.

"We won it in a raffle," Glenn interjected, smiling up at Dario. His big brother furrowed his eyebrows and glanced at Karsh.

"Oh, really? Because it looks more like gambling winnings from this angle." Karsh smiled and Glenn giggled, giddy from the excitement. Tilting back on one leg of his chair, Karsh let his head dangle backwards as he looked up at Dario.

"You're looking at it the wrong way then. Tilt your head a little to the left, then you'll get the right angle." Karsh looked down at Glenn, the two of them sheepish and obvious but high from their winnings. "Ain't that right, Glenn?" Glenn nodded and Dario laughed.

Taking a seat next to his best friend, he looked at him with mirthful eyes.

"You're not supposed to be gambling, remember?" Dario noted, unable to hide the faint smile sliding across his face. Karsh shrugged.

"Once a cowboy, always a cowboy."


	10. Mending Cracks

A crowd of people waited just outside Viper Manor as Riddel paced back and forth inside the Drawing Room. Today, they were celebrating her father's tenth anniversary as General of the Dragoons. The ceremony entailed honoring him with a medal for his service and valor to his people over the years.

It had been Riddel's responsibility to tend the Hero's Medal she was to present him with in less than a few minutes, but she had turned frantic and panicked after dropping it on the floor and cracking its exterior.

Mostly everyone was outside, already seated as the ceremony had been going strong for the past half hour, and her father had been flanked by all four of his Devas, leaving Riddel generally stranded and alone. Sitting down, she ran her fingers over the crack gingerly, turning ideas over in her head over how to conceal the blemish. A soldier had already come by to give her notice to be ready in several minutes, but she had squandered the better part of her time staring blankly at the crack.

Despite her delicacy and poise, Riddel had befuddled one of the most important distinctions her father would ever be presented with, and she felt nothing short of failure stir in her chest as she envisioned the faces of the men who would escort her to her father. To blemish such an important piece of history seemed such a stupid thing to let happen, and yet, she had dropped it from her very fingertips.

As she sat staring confounded as to what to do, a knock startled her to sit up straight.

"C-come in." To her surprise, it wasn't the soldier who had given her her five minutes grace period; it was Karsh. He looked particularly handsome with his hair swept back, contained for the formalities of Manor House functions, and dressed entirely in his Dragoonian Armor. He looked eons wiser, she thought, in his uniform. "Karsh? What are you doing here?"

Karsh noted her lack of preparation and the small artifact neatly cradled in her hands. Riddel was a young lady of assured promptness, and so he became particularly aware of the lack of timeliness she seemed to be plagued with. _Something had to have happened_, he thought to himself.

"Came to check up on you," he responded, casting an observant eye over the room. Riddel had been dressed and ready, but she looked far from prepared to take the stage.

"But you should be outside, with the rest of the Devas-"

"Yeah, I don't do conformity very well, if you haven't noticed before." Riddel allowed a fleeting smile to flicker across her face before she lowered weary eyes upon the medal once more. "So what's up? Whaddya got in your hands?" Karsh tried to keep his tone conversational, not wanting to alarm Riddel or give her more reason to become flustered. He could tell by the red in her cheeks and the sparks in her eyes that she was overwhelmed by something, he had seen her like this in the past. He sat down next to her.

Riddel shrugged and looked back up at him, and Karsh felt in that moment, for whatever reason, he wished he could consume whatever ailed her and spare her from the confines of her prison.

"I broke the medal, Karsh." Karsh furrowed his eyebrows at her confession, and cocked his head to the side in slight confusion. "I cracked it. Here, look," she said, offering up to him the small object she had nestled in her palms moments before. Karsh looked down, and saw the Medal his father had welded himself out of the rarest and finest materials for the General. It burned bright in all of its beauty save for the one glaring crack that rippled down its face.

Karsh knitted his brows deeper as he gently touched one hand to Riddel's, turning and angling her cupped hands to watch the way the medal glimmered. She took his silence for disappointment.

"I'm sorry Karsh. I don't know how I did it. I took it out of its case to polish it and then it just… it just slipped right between my fingers. I felt so stupid, and now I ruined it, and daddy's going to be so upset, and your father worked so hard and, and-" Riddel had gone silent at hearing Karsh's laughter. It had been the last thing she expected him to do and the sound had startled her.

Their heads were both bent in a sort of mock-prayer stance, lowered reverently over the medal in her hands, and as she looked up at him with confused eyes, she could feel her head nearly hit his own.

"Strange, isn't it, how something so small could make someone so scared." He looked up at her, their faces close as they hovered over the medal. "It's just… a piece of metal, right? Obviously not my dad's best work either, if it can crack so damn easy." Karsh laughed again, his fingers kissing the insides of her palms as he stole the medal for himself and began tossing it up and down in the air carelessly. Riddel's eyes went wide and she went to reach for it.

"Karsh!" He evaded her hands, however, and she rested her arms on his lap as she looked up at the medal uneasily, scared he would drop it at any minute. "We're sitting here, almost in prayer, and for what? For a piece of metal? For something… we can't take with us. It's just… material. It's nothing really." Riddel had shifted her eyes from the medal to Karsh, and she stared up at him surprised by her own surrender to his voice. He spoke with a veneration she hardly knew he could possess, but he sounded so gallant and beautiful in all of the wisdom he spoke. "What should really matter, are his people, and his soldiers, and his daughter, all of who love him very much, so much, that one would even shed a tear over something as small as an ornament for his vest. That's what your dad would care about, not some… object."

Riddel smiled and tucked a piece of her hair behind her ear, feeling sheepish for her initial reaction to the crack in the medal. Karsh had been right, her father would be most proud and thankful for having her there at all; his concerns for the superficial were minimal.

"People matter the most Riddel, not things. People like… you…" Riddel stared up at him still, his eyes distant and faded as though he talked about something else entirely. Her heart always thumped when he became like this. It thumped out of fear of what he might say, and it thumped for the things she would learn, but sometimes, already knew. Karsh lowered his eyes to meet her own, and he smiled as though remembering his moors to reality. "And me, people like you and me and… Dario. We're what matters, not this," and he tossed the medal on the bed carelessly.

Riddel had sat up, suddenly hyper-aware of how close the two of them leaned into each other, and smiled softly at her friend. "Thank you Karsh. You are truly a great friend." Karsh smiled and looked down at his own lap. _Friend, _it reminded him of all the ways he could never be with her, it reminded him of the line he could never cross.

"Yeah, yeah, I only came to get you before people started booing poor Dario off the stage. You left him to the dogs to cover your ass." Riddel laughed, oblivious to the way Karsh used humor as a defense mechanism. "You ready to do this thing?" She nodded; all her confidence and poise returned to her, her thanks in debt to a would-be lover.

"Can't forget this," she remarked, holding up the glinting piece of metal between her porcelain fingers. Karsh snatched it out of her hand with a smirk, pocketing it as he replied,

"Yeah, can't forget that. I'd hate to see the state of panic you'd be in if you actually _forgot _it entirely." She slapped him playfully on his shoulder and he grabbed at her wrists, pulling her against his side and swallowing her beneath his massive six foot two body.

The two of them eventually left for the ceremony, and Karsh thought to himself on the way out, it was funny how freely he talked of mending cracks in a medal, when he could hardly mend the cracks in his own heart.


	11. A Lady and her Knight

The Manor had been quiet over the weekend. With negotiations being attempted between El Nido and Porre, General Viper and his platoon of Devas set forth on a weekend long journey away from the estate. The soldiers continued their training separate of household interferences, and the staff was all that remained of any daily activity. Riddel sat in her bedroom, tending to various chores her father left in her stead, before a quiet knock came to her door.

"Come in," she called, not bothering to look up; she suspected it was either Clive with the tea or Tilda to inquire for more cleaning. It was quiet for several minutes, but Riddel hadn't noticed as she was so engrossed with the stationary laid before her.

"Riddel?" To her surprise, it was Glenn, standing lanky and bone-legged with eyes still too big for his round face.

"Oh, Glenn. I wasn't expecting you." She set her feathered quill on the desk. "What's going on?" She noted that Glenn was not himself. Though the changes in his body and the years that were refining his maturity level were ever growing, he was still always a forthcoming young boy who was at ease with his brother and his friends, especially Riddel. However, Glenn was quieter than usual and timid almost, with his head lowered and his eyes downcast. "What's the matter?" Riddel probed with a soft voice. "Did something happen?"

Glenn shook his head yes remorsefully and Riddel leaned forward to get a better look at him.

"Well, what is it? You can tell me, Glenn." Glenn looked up at her, unsure and frightened looking.

"I… I lost something."

"You lost something?" she asked confused.

"Well, I mean… not really. It's not really lost." His voice faltered and she could hear his vocals catch between the familiar baritone of Dario's voice and the squeak of his pre-pubescent voice, fighting for authority. He sighed, as though trying hard to muster up courage he felt he should have by now. It was funny, Riddel thought, to see the changes actively take shape in someone. "I went into Zoah's room."

Riddel's eyes seemed to understand the fear that was so palpably emanating off of Glenn now, and why it was the hormonal shifts in his body probably wreaked such havoc on him; he was caught between wanting to be a man and feeling the fear common to a little boy; Zoah often had that effect on people, even on the bravest of soldiers.

"Zoah is not so big and scary, you know. Why don't you tell me what happened." Glenn liked how she talked to him. Instead of patronizing his fears she spoke to him like a grown-up, she spoke to him the way she would speak to Dario or Karsh if they came to her with a problem. It was easy to rely on her gentle, nurturing nature, and he very much liked it.

"I know I wasn't supposed to," he started, sitting on the edge of her bed, "but I went into his room. You know it's always locked, and I always want to look inside, and," Riddel smiled inwardly at his ever present curiosity; he was like a cat.

"And you wanted to check it out, while he was away, because… who would ever know, right?" she finished his sentence for him. Glenn smiled sheepishly; she was right.

"Yeah," he admitted, feeling more comfortable the more he told her.

"Is that all?"

"… No." Riddel smiled at him, her eyes half reprimanding and half amused by him. He didn't feel judged, though, not with her face so warm and gentle. "I went inside, and he had these cool figurine things on his desk. One was a cat." _Oh Zoah, _Riddel thought. Zoah, who was big and burly and the third Deva, known for his merciless strength and muscle in battle, would of course, have something as inconspicuous and unexpected as a cat figurine. It was no wonder he was so fiercely protective of who went in and out of his room. The only person he ever really let inside was Karsh, and Riddel thought it was a small miracle in and of itself that he hadn't announced it to the entire Manor yet.

"So did you take one or something? I'm sure he won't be mad if you just put it back when you're done, but next time, you can just ask, he won't-"

"I dropped it. I dropped it in the hallway, and when I went to pick it up, I accidentally hit it and it fell through the grate, and now I can't get it." Riddel understood now, Glenn was frightened he would never be able to retrieve the small figurine.

"Can you still see it, if you stand over the grate?" she asked, running ideas through her head now as to how they could reach it. He shook his head yes.

"I think… I think we can get it with a pencil. There's this weird hole in the side of the cat, I think we can hook a pencil through it and lift it up." Riddel nodded and stood up.

"Alright, then we'll find a pencil. I guess this marks the start of Operation Kitty Rescue." Glenn laughed, his voice faltering between a newly burgeoning low pitch and the soprano he was most familiar with.

**OOOOOOOOOO**

Several long, arduous minutes had gone by, perhaps even fifteen or so, and Riddel and Glenn lay sprawled out on the hallway floor trying desperately to hook and sink the wooden cat below them. With her arm shoved as far as the grating spaces would allow and her head smack against the cold stone floor, Riddel struggled to swing the pencil into place. Glenn sat beside her, his face plastered onto the grate, trying to dictate to her how and when to swing.

"Almost… you almost got it, Riddel, just… a little to the… not that way,' he concluded disappointedly after she swung and missed. Riddel huffed in exasperation, her arm getting tired.

"Next time, we're buying him a new figurine and calling it a day," she joked. Glenn continued giving her directions until a soldier appeared, evidently heading downstairs for dinner in the mess hall.

He stopped, alarmed by the image of the Lady of the Manor. Riddel had been completely lain out on the floor, her silk dress dirty from rolling around the stone and her hair mussed as she grew hot and agitated. On her knees her body was bent, and she looked halfway short of crazy, crawling around the floor with her boyfriend's little brother. Glenn looked up at him and smiled politely before nudging Riddel.

Turning, Riddel stood up quickly, smiling a more forced, conspicuous smile as she laughed nervously.

"Umm… good… evening, soldier," she stammered, not sure what else to say to explain her compromising and embarrassing position. The soldier quirked his eyebrow.

"Getting bored, huh?" he assumed.

"Uhhh, yep… just… playing around with Glenn. Nothing, really… out of the ordinary, I guess…" Her cheeks burned up as she felt uncontrollable giggles begin to bubble in her chest. She exchanged glances with Glenn and the two of them stifled their impending laughter. The soldier continued to appear perplexed. Out of all his years, he had never seen such odd behavior, especially from the Lady.

"A weekend away will do that to you, I guess." He nodded, finding it hard to salute his leader's daughter in a moment of delirium. "Good day… my Lady." She nodded, her smile widening as her eyes burned holes through his back, before erupting in an explosion of wild, pretty laughter with Glenn by her side. She hadn't felt so uninhibited in a while, with the political storm her father swept in nearly every day, but playing mischief with Glenn had been just the remedy the two of them needed.

"Did you see the look on his face?" she asked Glenn, her hand covering her mouth so her voice wouldn't echo.

Glenn sprawled out on his back, clutching his stomach.

"I think you scared him."

"I think I did, too."

"You did look ridiculous, in his defense." Her eyes went wide, incredulously.

"I did it for _you_," she snapped, laughing as she hit his shoulder with the back of her hand.

"A lot of good that did me, huh," Glenn joked, referencing the cat at the bottom of the grate. Riddel sighed and sat on her knees.

"You're taking after your brother too much, stop hanging around him." Glenn smiled a proud smile, always flattered by the compliment.

"Dario would at least be able to get it for us though. I can't even do that." Riddel's eyes went soft and she leaned forward on her hands, her hair dangling on the floor.

"You know… we don't _always _need a Dragoon around to help us damsels and little brothers out, right?" she asked, looking up at him with a pretty determination in her eyes. "I think we make a pretty good team, maybe we're just doing it wrong. Here," she said, taking the string and pencil. "You have smaller arms. If we make the string longer, you can stick your whole arm through and get a better handle on it. _I'll _give the directions."

Glenn smiled at her confidence in his abilities, and liked feeling like her trust in him was not misplaced. Today, _he _would be her Knight, and prove his capabilities were just as strong as Karsh and Dario's. He would prove her right, too, as several minutes later and one longer string, the two of them had successfully pulled the figurine up and out of the grate.

"We did it!" Riddel exclaimed, hugging Glenn from the side where she sat on the floor.

The rest of the weekend had past eventfully, with Riddel and Glenn entertaining themselves without the aid of the legendary Devas. Together, they helped each other forget some of their responsibilities and learn how to have fun; she was a Lady, and he was her Knight, rewriting all the old scripts of knighthood and service.

* * *

**A/N: Mmmm, I like it and I don't like it. I think it started strong, but I didn't know how to end it. I hope it was still a fun read! **


	12. The Art of Seduction

"This is almost a bigger turnout than we get at the Termina Fair," replied a handsomely decorated Karsh, who strolled the streets of Termina with Riddel and Glenn.

It had been the annual Dragoonian Festival, in which various Dragoons were honored and celebrated by their townsfolk for serving the continent as valiantly and effectively as they did. There were no formalities about it, as would be the case at an event at the Manor, but the city certainly extended itself in terms of decorations and festivities.

Long, swaging garlands draped the length of the Termina Bridge and flowered pretty petals over the small canal of water below it. Vendors offered exotic foods and imported goods to trade and buy, and the Blacksmith offered his services for free to any family who had a relative in the service. It was an exultant and celebrated time for everyone involved, and this year, Karsh and Dario were getting their first taste of fame and glory as Devas, having just missed the fair last year by getting ranked only a month after it ended.

Similarly to Dario, Karsh was dressed in uniform, looking gallant and heroic, and Glenn, beside him, was dressed in well-polished armor and embellishments. Riddel stood stunning beside both boys in what came to be an expected silk dress.

"Do you think they still have Viper Churros left?" Glenn asked no one in particular, less concerned with being honored for his exceptional skills as a minor in combat and more concerned with the stockpile of Termina's most coveted indulgence: Viper Churros. Karsh rolled his eyes and let a heavy arm fall over Glenn's shoulders.

"No wonder you're still single, kid. You're focusing on the wrong things right now." Riddel bumped into Karsh playfully and gave him a look.

"He's thirteen, Karsh. He doesn't need to be looking for a girlfriend."

"How old were you when you started dating Dario? Oh, what was that? I think you were thirteen, Miss Viper, would you look at that."

"That was different. We all knew each other since we were kids. Glenn's grown up differently and I wouldn't necessarily say everyone should follow in my footsteps."

Glenn sighed, he didn't particularly care about his brother's dating habits or girls or romance at the moment, all he really cared about was finding a vendor interested in selling him a Viper Churro. He went to tell Riddel and Karsh that he would be going off on his own in search of his own personal conquest, but being met with their arguing and bickering soured his attempts and encouraged him to leave on his own accord.

"Oh, please, Karsh, would you have him take after _you? _Chasing every skirt you can find in town?" The two of them had been completely ignorant to Glenn's departure. Karsh laughed a loud, robust laugh.

"That's not entirely true."

"Your definition of what's true and what's not true is sort of loose," Riddel interjected. Karsh continued, unfazed.

"Besides, what's so wrong with a healthy, sexual appetite? I just…" he paused, smirking as he looked down at the floor for all of the irony that would follow, "I just haven't found the right girl yet." It was ironic because it was both the truth and a lie; Karsh had found the right girl, but that girl would never be the right girl, in this world or any other. Riddel never stopped to think the reasons behind his actions, but sometimes he wondered if she didn't already know them and all three of them just played at a lie for the sake of convenience. Navigating the waters of friendship became harder and harder with each year that passed.

Riddel went quiet at his reason for harnessing such a reputation for womanizing, and slowly, the two of them let go of the uncomfortable direction the conversation had taken.

"Where's Glenn?" Karsh had finally asked, noting his absence beside him.

"He's not with us?"

"Uhhh, he _was _with us, but now he's gone." Riddel looked around, concerned.

"We should look for him."

"Nah, he'll be fine. Probably went to find churros or whatever, kid is _seriously_ obsessed." Riddel laughed. It was true, for as long as she knew Glenn, his big weakness was Viper Churros. She let a few moments pass in silence, the two of them walking arm in arm, before finally saying,

"Are you _sure _we shouldn't look for him, Karsh? I mean-"

"Termina's about the size of an average sized boat. If anything were to happen, we'd probably hear it before we saw it, and Glenn can handle himself, now, he's been training like it's going out of style. Give the kid a break, he just wants his damn sugar fix." Something about the way Karsh talked always made Riddel smile. He was so blatant and bold in everything he said, but it was always so honest. He brought humor sometimes where there was none to be found. She nodded and they wove their way between soldiers and villagers, passing by jewelry stalls and trinket booths all eager to sell them something.

"Hey, that necklace looks right up your alley," Karsh had commented as they passed a booth. Riddel wouldn't have stopped if it weren't for the gripping hand on her wrist tugging her towards the decorated booth of tiny treasures and glittering gems.

"I don't want anything, Karsh," she reassured him, not wanting to go out of her way to buy things she didn't need.

"I'm serious, though. Here, just try it on." Sweeping her hair into an updo, Karsh made her hold her hair up while he fastened the necklace around her neck. As his fingers grasped at the clasp, he could see goose bumps ripple down her back at the touch of his fingertips.

Standing beside her, he worked his fingers into her hair and let her admire the piece on her neck. It was certainly impressive, Riddel admitted to herself. With gold embellishments on the outside, the single purple gemstone in the center glimmered and danced beneath the sun.

"It's… beautiful Karsh, but really, I don't need it." He rolled his eyes and unsnapped the necklace for her.

"You sure?"

"I'm sure," she smiled, dropping the pendant into his hands and folding his fingers over it. "But thank you." He laughed.

"Who said I was gonna buy it for you." She smiled at his coyness but knew what he meant in his offer. He looked down, unfolding his fingers and staring at the jewel. It looked like a fireball explosion of glittering gold and royal purple, and it seemed so fitting for Riddel. "You sure you don't want it? It's like it was made for you."

Riddel looked at him with sincere eyes, the gesture itself something that moved her. Karsh was always too kind to her, and sometimes she wondered how much of his kindness she should allow.

"As a gift?" she asked, wanting an excuse for the generous gesture.

"A gift, sure." She smiled, but before she could answer, the two turned around at the commotion behind them.

"Dario! Sir Dario!" they heard, and as they looked, Dario, in all of his valor, stood suited and armed as he was barraged by a flock of young girls.

"It's a Deva," they whispered, and,

"He's so handsome."

"And brave!" At the festival, it was expected to be approached by fans, but Dario, being the poster child for heroism with his dashing good looks and apparent good nature, seemed infinitely more popular than even the bravest of soldiers.

"We have gifts for you," one of the girls had commented, and Dario, being the indulgent, well-mannered young man that he was, did not deny them their moment with a legend.

"He's unbelievable," commented Karsh.

"He's just… doing his duty," Riddel replied, feeling bad. She knew that grimace on his face well, however faint, and she knew what it meant: he would have rather been elsewhere if he could.

"Too fucking accommodating, if you ask me." Karsh remarked, to which Riddel laughed. This was true, in Dario's attempt to please anyone and everyone, he could sometimes run the risk of undermining his own desires for the contentment of others. It was what she loved about him though, his uncanny sense of modesty and his unrelenting humility. It was no wonder so many girls admired him, it was hard not to and she could not blame them.

Karsh and Riddel watched as the girls handed him presents; chains of mythril and daisy crowns for his head, blooming flower petals for his vest and most commonly, kisses for his cheeks. Karsh shifted his eyes towards Riddel, and he could see that even a Lady such as she was not without her jealousy. He nudged her.

"Still doing his duty?" he asked with a smirk, unable to let the opportunity for a pun slip by. She rolled her eyes, her face pinched with a sort of jealous hitch. Karsh could not help himself but find it extremely attractive and certainly humorous. "It's harmless," he finally tried to reassure her.

She did not hear him though, and he was surprised to find she very abruptly left. He watched curiously as she went up to Dario.

"Oh, Sir Dario," she mocked, her eyes alight with mischief most certainly borrowed from Karsh, Dario could see that much was obvious. She did not let him speak. "So handsome, and so brave. How could I ever thank you for fighting for your people?" Dario looked at Riddel perplexed; he did not know what she was getting at, but he knew somehow she was irritated. Riddel was not often irritated, but when she was, she breathed fire like the fiercest dragon he had ever seen. It was both beautiful and frightening.

"I… don't know, my Lady."

"Oh, but I think I do," Riddel replied, her voice heady with a certain possessive lust that he was both familiar with and enticed by. However, he thought her timing was particularly suspicious. Before he could properly put into words what he wanted to say, he could feel her hands tugging at his suit of armor, bringing him down for a serpent's kiss on her lips. These were not the sweet lips he remembered, instead, they were transformed fangs, intoxicating as they were vengeful. He knew then, as she pulled him still deeper, that she did this for the girls who showered him with affection he could not deny. He smiled amusedly into her lips.

"You are far more terrible than I give you credit for, my love," he whispered against her mouth. She smiled a wickedly beautiful smile. _Too beautiful, _he thought.

"My gift was far superior, and I thought you would want it most out of them all." He kissed her again, and the crowd of girls left annoyed by the interruption.

"Your name does not betray you, certainly," he breathed into her mouth, and she laughed. Acting so out of character was invigorating sometimes, but she had really only wanted Dario's attention and affections for herself more than she had wanted to prove any point. She knew his eyes were only for her, but sometimes, she thought it was ok to be the right amount of assertive. "And you were right. Clearly, this gift was better than any other I received today."

Karsh watched as the two embraced in the middle of the fair; the Knight and His Princess, they were irrevocably destined. His gift seemed incomparable to the gift Dario could give her, but he purchased the necklace regardless. His gift may not have had the same bearing as a kiss, but it was a gift nonetheless, a gift from a friend. Riddel's smiles were worth the cost of remaining in the shadows, even if he had to savor them from afar.


	13. Tea and Sympathy

The storm raged something wicked as it battered the cottage roof with rampant rains and tenebrously torrid thunder. The walls seemed to shake as if their bones were old with fatigue, creaking in the night as it suffered under the humiliation of probing, volatile winds.

Riddel sat bundled under quilts of heavy down, embroidered with the regal crest of the Viper House.

"Thank you," she said, as Dario handed her a warm cup of tea. She wrapped her chilled hands around the mug gratefully and held it close to her chest.

"It's really getting bad out there," he commented, looking outside the darkened windows. Only sparse flashes of fantastically impressive lightening hinted at any signs of existence beyond the flimsy safety of the cabin.

Inside, the fireplace crackled under smoky firewood, its flames leaping and licking at the air in a reverent sort of dance, as though the hearth paid its respects to the wily whims of nature.

The two of them had taken a holiday off the shores of the continent, but much to their chagrin, the weather had turned for the worst. Curling her cup into herself with one hand, Riddel snaked her arms around Dario's and huddled him close to her side. He could feel her soft lips kiss at the sides of his face gently, and he smiled under all the attention she bestowed upon him.

"Give me that," he remarked playfully, stealing her tea and setting their cups down on the coffee table in front of them. Riddel giggled as he wove his arms beneath the blankets and pulled her into his embrace, and as he kissed her neck he thought how much he loved the sound of her laughter, ethereal and whimsical and everything he adored about her.

"Dario…" Riddel trailed off, sensing where he was taking this.

"Who says our vacation is spoiled? I quite like the rain all of a sudden."

"You would," she responded breathlessly, a prisoner to her desires as much as Dario was a valiant soldier fighting for his own.

Her hands felt smooth and tender as they glided across the stern lines of his face, and she traced his sharp jawline with gentle fingertips, allowing him to linger on her lips. The blanket fell from her delicate shoulders as their breathing grew hot, and as he lay her down on her back the sudden flickering of lights brought their passion to an abrupt halt.

Riddel looked up at Dario, her small hands loosening their lustful clutch on his shirt, and she watched as he lifted his head of blonde hair to look around the room. She smiled at how handsome he looked, even when he wasn't aware of it.

Forgetting the power surge, she pushed herself up slightly and threw her arms around his neck, catching him off guard and playfully pecking his jaw. She bubbled with pretty vivaciousness and was electric to the touch. He looked down surprised.

"Dario…," she probed. Dario laughed at her eagerness and marveled at the beckoning swoon to her eyes. She certainly knew how to elicit the appropriate responses out of him, and he thought she must have more prowess and intelligence than even the craftiest decorated official; she was a muse for whom he exclusively served in life. He could not deny her her desires any longer, and he swooped down to steal yet another kiss, spicier than those sweet kisses she was known for giving.

His ego swelled and thrived off of the way she responded to him, with the way her back arched and her breath quickened, he knew no one else could satisfy her the way he so often did. She was a goddess in these moments, as beautiful and frightening as the electrical storm that raged outside, and she lit those passions of his own desires so well he knew he would never have want for another love. Riddel had fulfilled him in so many more ways than physically, and if he could he would have liked to eat the core of her conscious, consume her spirits and become her entirely. Love was a frightening thing, but it was beautiful as it was violent, and he thought how dull life would be without this fiery woman to make it worth living.

He had just pulled the shirt from over her head when the lights had quite suddenly gone out entirely, and as they lay tangled in each other's limbs, a loud sparking sound came from outside. Riddel shuddered in his arms and he held himself up, hovering over her half-naked form.

"Did you hear that?" Riddel finally asked.

"Like a spark?" She nodded, and Dario sat up. Sitting up herself, Riddel wrapped the blanket around her bare shoulders and looked worriedly at him. "It has to be the storm. It must have blown something out," Dario commented.

Standing up, he walked to one of the large windows and looked outside to see if he could see anything. It was hard to adjust to the darkness, but the flashes of lightening eased this endeavor somewhat.

"Do you see anything?" Riddel asked, turning on the sofa as she pulled his shirt over her head. Dario shook his head no at first, squinting in the darkness to try and make out a wild wire, or worse, a budding electrical fire. There was nothing, though.

"No. I can't see anything. Should I go outside and check?"

"No, are you crazy? It's insane out there, I don't want anything happening to you. Besides," she said, "this is… kind of cozy." Dario turned around and smiled; Riddel always managed to turn a bad situation into some kind of wonderful magic. He laughed, walking back over to her, and put his arms at either side of her head.

"Cozy?" She nodded, putting her hands around his neck and pulling him into a familiarly sweet kiss. "I guess it kind of is." He let himself collapse on top of her, rolling to her side as she smothered him in kisses.

"A blackout could be fun. And this tea is really good." He smiled at her, watching as she sipped the tea he made in the shirt that was his, and he thought, she never looked as beautiful as she did in this moment. She didn't need furs or silks to make his heart swoon the way it did, she only needed a cup of warm tea and a borrowed shirt, and he felt like he was falling in love all over again.

"Do you know," he started, his eyes transfixed by the wild mess that was her hair, "that I've told Karsh I want to marry you?" Riddel looked up from her cup, surprised by this bold declamation of his unrelenting love for her, and stared wide-eyed at his confession, at a loss of how to respond. He smiled at her silence and let his fingers twirl stray hairs of hers around his fingertips. "Was that too bold?" He asked sheepishly, not wanting to scare her in such an intimate moment.

Riddel blinked before she seemed to find the words she lost.

"Do you?" He quirked an eyebrow. "Want to marry me, I mean. Do you really want to marry me?" she finally asked, unsure of whether those were the right words she was looking for.

He leaned closer, the scent of his body wrapped warm folds around her head and the image of his muscular, bare chest made her eyes flutter and her heart thump. He overwhelmed her sometimes, with his good looks and sincerity, but she didn't know if losing a grip on reality was a good thing or not.

"I do," he whispered softly, not proposing but suggesting that, sometime in the future, he very much wanted to make her his bride. He leaned closer and stole a tantalizingly slow kiss, delectable in all of its sensual uncertainty, Riddel like a reluctant lover whose hesitation is more of a slow surrender than a refusal. He could feel the steam of her breath fog over his face, and he smiled when he felt her lips stammer for words. "I'm not proposing yet, Riddel, you can calm down."

Riddel laughed and she let him take another bite from her mouth, and this time her lips moved with more confidence. When he pulled away she did not kiss him again though. Instead, she looked deep into the brilliant blue of his eyes before she spoke.

"You know… Karsh told me… a long time ago, that he thought you would marry me as soon as you could." Dario looked at Riddel curiously. "He asked me if I would marry you, then." Dario felt remorse for the best friend he called brother, and lamented the ways in which his love would remain unrequited. He loved Karsh too much to truly ever resent him for his feelings, but he often wondered why he tortured himself the way he did. He wasn't sure if Karsh knew that he knew, but certainly Karsh must have known Dario wasn't entirely ignorant.

"What did you say?" he asked, genuinely curious as to her answer. He never questioned Riddel's love, but sometimes he wondered who loved who more, if such a thing were possible. She was quiet, and for a moment he thought she surely must have said no.

"I said I thought I would, but truthfully, I didn't know. It was… a particularly peculiar question for him to ask, and I didn't know if I really… knew what love was to say yes. That was a year ago." Dario studied her quietly. He wanted to marry her the moment he laid eyes on her, but he would not begrudge her feelings against her; she was her own person.

"And now?" he asked more hopefully. She looked him in the eye and smiled.

"Now? … It has only been a year, Dario." Dario looked disappointed, but still, he was patient with his muse.

"I understand."

"I said, it's only been a year, but even though so little time had passed, I feel as though we are two different people, wiser and older and more in love than we ever were before. I may still be a child but I know now that… this child's heart knows the great depths of a mature and prosperous love. I would marry you tonight if you asked it of me, Dario. I would be your wife for as long as you wanted. I love you very much."

Dario could feel his heart nearly swell ten times its size, and he squeezed her slender body so close to his chest he wondered if she could breathe. But she did not complain, only held him to her bosom and kissed him with those tender, sweet lips he loved so much.

_I'm going to marry her, one day, _he thought to himself, _and she will be my bride, and I will be her husband, and I will only serve my muse. _

Moments after their passionate embrace, Riddel picked up her tea, sipping it again as she looked to Dario.

"There is nothing more sobering, I suppose, than a little tea and sympathy." Dario laughed and took the cup from her once more. This time, the lights had already been put out, and he would lay with his muse for as long as the night would carry them through the storm.


	14. Growing Pains

The Children's Division was up, the Minors, and as Glenn and his opponent stepped into the sparring arena, he looked around for familiar faces. The metal stung like burning ice against his fingertips as he wrapped his hands around the handle of the sword, only his fingers exposed as a result of the fingerless gloves he wore. He was suited in heavy armor and his helmet clunked down on his head half-hazardly, his growing body still not fully grown to fill the shoes of a real soldier.

Today was his field exam to measure his merit as a knight in training. The under divisions all faced this challenge once they turned fourteen, and Glenn had already turned fourteen in February.

His arrestingly green eyes burned beautiful holes through his helmet, and he crouched into position, waiting for the bell toll to signify the start of their match. A mediator stood to the side to oversee their battle, taking notes on whose technique was superior and whose skill was more trained.

Dario, Riddel, and Karsh sat off to the sides. The arena was small and only a handful of people were allowed inside to better discourage the barbaric sentiment at the heart of sparring and better foster support and encouragement for the trainees who strived hard to become the best soldiers they could be. This test was not meant as sport but as a gauge for the minors to measure their worth and improve where their abilities lacked. Still, Riddel, herself, did not like it so much, but she came in support of Glenn.

The signal came and the two boys were set loose on each other, each of them their first time fighting for winner's spoils as opposed to training.

Glenn had known his opponent in the Dragoons as a strong, merciless young boy, orphaned and with little remorse for his colleagues. There was no sense of comradeship when it came to this boy, and he did not like the look of death that stirred in his eyes. For Glenn, this would be a way of life, and in life he was meant to help those who served alongside him, but for some enlisted, it was a competition of the strongest and most cunning.

Glenn dodged the steel of his sword and swiftly moved to the left. He was growing in more ways than one, and as his body developed and his muscles burgeoned, so did the extent of the intellect of his mind. He was smarter than a lot of the boys in his division, and he used it to his advantage in battle. The main objective in this arena was to pierce through the opponent's defense once, which would render a sufficient defeat. It was, in a way, an excellent source of self-defense and prevention, and no blood was allowed to be drawn during these sparrings.

Glenn's opponent, however, was coming at him strong, swinging with a might of a man whose intention is to inflict severe injury. Although this alarmed Glenn, he tried gallantly to rise to the occasion and evade his blows as best as he could.

This sport continued on in this manner for some time, with Glenn lunging fiercely and his enemy fighting with a determined, even admirable, brutality, but things did not culminate until Glenn's helmet was struck clear off his head. The crowd had gasped at such an illegal move, and Glenn stood immobile for a moment, his fingers gingerly touching his neck where brilliant, beautiful blood stained his fingertips. He looked to his opponent, shocked as he was appalled at his blatant disregard for rules, but he heard no horn blown to indicate the match was over. No one had seen the blood, but the mediators were clearly alert to the possible hindrance this enemy was.

"Come on, Glenn, cut at his ankles," Karsh remarked, angry with the way things were unfolding.

"That would be cheating," Dario responded, never taking his eyes from the match.

"There's no such thing as cheating in a real battle, Dario. You do what you have to to stay alive." Even though Dario knew this was true, he liked that the Manor instilled civility and morality into the young hearts and impressionable minds of its trainee soldiers. Without a moral compass, he feared they would only be contributing to men with arms, egos too big for their hearts with power unimaginable; they would be no better than merciless killing machines, and he liked to think Dragoons were held to a higher code of ethics than that.

Swords continued to dance a dance of primal violence, clashing together in a foreboding haze of ferocious might. Glenn's long, thin legs fought hard to hold him up, the calves developing as they thickened and grew less scrawny, his arms bulging with the stirrings of generational strength and power. His long, lean torso looked vaguely the portrait of an older, more experienced Dragoon under the bulk of his armor, and his eyes blazed with a mature intensity that could not be faked or learned, but earned through experience. Dario could see in his little brother the flourishing of a true knight, a soldier whose need to fight is only as strong as his need to stay alive. He could see he did not harbor the same vindictive ruthlessness that this other boy did, and he was glad for it.

Suddenly, and very unexpectedly, Glenn's enemy swung his sword down with smooth agility and sliced a deep gash across his left cheek, drawing blood and eliciting a stinging pain from the blindsided Glenn. The mediator had blown the horn on the match as the number one rule had been violated. Glenn stared at his enemy surprised, but he could see in his eyes that he was not sorry, he would grow to be a wrathful soldier whose only purpose is oppression through power. He shuddered at what weapons could do to some people, even boys as young as himself.

As he went to turn and leave, he felt a very sudden blow to his chest, the wind being knocked from his lungs as the familiar stinging pain returned to him. With only seconds to grasp what had happened, Glenn realized the boy sliced another line across his face, and he watched helplessly as his blood stained the earth's gravel. There was a fire in the other boy's eyes that was guttural and mean; the stare of a future soldier without a soul.

Riddel had stood up suddenly, incredulous at what was happening.

"This is unfair. Someone should put an end to this, that boy needs to be detained." Dario had put a hand on Riddel's and pulled her back down.

"Life's battles are unfair, Riddel, sometimes we must weather these storms. This will serve a good lesson and painful reminder to Glenn, he must do what his instincts are telling him." Riddel looked to Dario, quieted by his poetic verse, and watched his profile. He looked on worriedly, sick even, but the faith and trust he instilled in a boy so young was remarkable and admirable. Dario had known moments like this would sometimes plague Glenn, and to be a better soldier meant he, unfortunately, needed to think quick on his feet when it was most vital. Dario was confident Glenn would make him proud, and he had one foot ready to sprint should anything too serious pursue.

At the boy's third swing, Glenn had finally realized he must defend himself if he wished to escape relatively unscathed, and he held his sword up before him quickly, pushing the boy back with as much might he could muster. From the distance, he could faintly here the panicked stirring of the mediators that rushed to put an end to this, but until they could come, Glenn knew he had to fight.

Their swords clashed several moments longer, before Glenn had found it within himself to kick the boy's chest armor in and slay him to the ground. The boy cowered beneath Glenn's sword, holding his shield up in defense before he felt it propelled away from him. Glenn had all but shattered it out of his hands, and Dario's brows knitted as he stared on, hoping Glenn would not succumb to his weaker senses as a soldier.

Glenn pointed the tip of his sword at the boy's face, the blade shining as it caught and refracted the light. Their eyes met and for a moment, it seemed Glenn would extract his revenge all over the boy's pretty, unblemished face. Glenn had stopped though, and withdrew his sword at the sound of the mediators. He had time to leave his mark and sear a reminder into this boy's head, but instead, he crouched on his haunches and spoke low enough for only the boy to hear.

"Our swords are meant to defend those who are wounded, Matthias, not wound the ones that need defending. It would serve you well to remember that, for you never know what moment of need you may stumble upon in your future." Glenn had surprised himself with the poetic prose that was more characteristic of his older brother, but he could almost feel his heart throb with the accomplishment he knew Dario would bestow upon him. His cheek pulsed something awful, but through the pain and the blood that ran warm trickles down his face, he sheathed his sword and turned away, smiling at the real victory of the day.

The crowd had erupted in relieved applause for the young master who could have slain his opponent with a wicked wound, and Glenn hoped he had served as a reminder to the younger kids that violence was not always necessary, even in the arena. His heart felt full as he returned to the training quarters; he knew Dario would be proud.

**OOOOOOOOOO**

In the infirmary, Glenn sat on a bed, the doctor having just finished stitching the last of his wounds. His cheek would be permanently marred with a garish X-shaped scar. He touched it gingerly before retracting his hand into himself, alarmed by the still stinging pain.

"It will be some time before it heals," the medic commented. Dario rubbed his back comfortingly and Karsh smiled down at him sympathetically.

"Hey, I'm really proud of you," Dario commented, smiling affectionately down at his brother. Glenn smiled but there was hesitation lingering in his eyes. "I know you may not think so now, Glenn, but every soldier's scar tells a story, and the story behind this one is very noble indeed. You should be proud, not ashamed. Wear your scars like a badge of honor, Glenn."

Karsh nudged Glenn in his side with an elbow.

"Besides," he started, "chicks dig scars." Glenn flushed and Dario rolled his eyes, pushing his best friend to the side. Riddel, who had been staring on quietly, smiled at Glenn and leaned her hands onto her lap as she bent forward.

"Do you want to know what I think?" she asked Glenn, whose aversion to his scar was still apparent. "I think it's very attractive," she concluded, pinching his nose as his cheeks flared up in a familiar red.

"Told ya," Karsh remarked smugly.

"I'm sure all the girls will ask about what happened," Riddel continued, smiling and laughing to help ease his self-consciousness. Glenn laughed softly, looking down at his lap fondly as he sat at a loss for words. It didn't matter what other girls thought, he thought to himself, but he smiled nonetheless and tried hard not to focus on his new scar. Riddel and his brother had only kind words for him, even if they were only to make him feel better, and so he tried to make peace with the new permanent feature to his face.

Glenn could feel Dario rub his back affectionately and moments after that, it was time to leave the infirmary. As the four of them walked out, Glenn had brushed shoulders with Riddel. He looked up at her before realizing he had to look down at her; he still hadn't got used to being taller than her.

"What is it?" she asked sweetly. He smiled, and Riddel thought for a moment he looked so much older in this light, like a boyish version of Dario. His fine blonde hair fell into his eyes as he smiled.

"You really think… it looks ok?" Riddel's smile widened and she ran a comforting hand through his hair, brushing it back to expose his entire face so his blemish could not hide in the shadows.

"I really think it's beautiful, because it is a part of you, but don't go running around getting anymore, ok? You don't need that many badges of honor." Glenn laughed at Riddel mocking Dario's words from before, his voice catching in baritone again.

"Thanks, Riddel." She smiled and took his arm, walking behind Dario and Karsh, happy she could ease his mind just a little bit.

This day would mark the transition from child to young teenager for Glenn, and he was happy he could remember it as a moment of both loss and gain; the moment he lost a battle to gain an ever reverberating consciousness that would not soon leave him. He smiled the last of his child's smile as he walked away, happy with his victory through defeat.


	15. The Story of the Fourth Musketeer

**A/N: I can't remember who exactly it was that asked me this now, but there has been some inquiry as to what year this story takes place. I'm going canonically, which says that the events of the game took place in 1020 A.D. Doing some simple math would put us at about 1014 A.D. However, as this story jumps around in years a bit, I would say it is safe to assume you can see anything from between 1000 to 1020 A.D. (1000 A.D. being the year Glenn was born and 1020 A.D. being the year I'm not likely to surpass, but may in separate stories.) While society is depicted as being primitive in that there are still Knights and historically ancient institutions instated, technology is depicted as being advanced, with the presence of swords, guns, magic, and alien technology all existent throughout the game. **

**Also, I make reference something called 'El Nido,' in this chapter, which is basically the entire map of the land they come from. Similar to what America is to New York (country to state), El Nido is to Termina (continent to town). The technicalities are a bit different, but the idea is there. I hope that clarifies some questions, and if you guys have any more, feel free to ask. Enjoy!**

* * *

It was April. The trees were flowering with fresh springtime petals and the sun danced billows of bright sunshine beams over the sharp bladed grass. The air was peppered with stinging sea salt as the ocean breeze tumbled oceanic surf spray over the Manor Bluffs and towards the gardens.

Outside, Riddel sat leisurely beneath a canopy of vines with Dario, Karsh, and Glenn, the four of them finally given a moment's rest to enjoy each other's company and savor the sparse slits of sun that breached the ceiling of green.

Riddel braided Karsh's hair, who sat cross legged in front of her on the grass, while the two brothers reenacted great battles of the world, laughing and rolling around as they jested and jabbed at each other with their swords.

"Be careful," came Riddel's chiding voice, her eyes moving from unsheathed swords to Karsh's silken hair. Leaning over, she bundled his hair into her hands, smiling as she murmured into his ear,

"You have beautiful hair, Sir Karsh."

He laughed, his eyes closed as he took in the sun, and noted her compliment.

"Thanks, Viper."

"I think…" she trailed off, tapping a finger to her chin as she decided what to do, "that I'm going to put it into a ponytail. Yes," she continued, confident in her decision, "that's what I'm going to do." Karsh paid her little mind and instead enjoyed the feeling of fingers threading through his long, lustrous hair, soothed by the warmth of the sun and drowsy from its omnipresence.

The final clanging of swords shattered the silence for just a moment, and as Karsh lazily opened one eye to see who had been the victor, he noticed Dario standing with his sword by his feet.

"You let me win, didn't you?" Glenn asked his brother skeptically. Dario smiled and laughed; his voice was deep and smooth like velvet as he swooped down to pick his sword up.

"I did no such thing." Glenn smiled and rolled his eyes at Dario's response. His brother was far superior in battle and it was not like him to let him win when they sparred, as Dario always wanted Glenn to improve his sport. Today, however, Dario's spirits seemed particularly brightened.

"Yes, you did, you're a terrible liar." Glenn had thrown his sword down on the floor tiredly, before allowing his long, angular body to collapse beside it. Dario bumped Riddel out of her seat, pushing her to the far end of the stone bench, and took up braiding Karsh's hair.

"No, you're too rough, I need a Lady's hands," Karsh whined, irritated by the loss of his handmaid.

"What's the matter, you can't take it like a man, Karsh? Toughen up and let your best friend sooth some of your pains." Karsh sighed, letting his eyelids flutter shut again as his head fell to one side.

"You better not slack off," was all he had to say. Riddel and Glenn laughed at the two friend's antics, the four of them content and happy under the listless sun that seemed beautiful and golden as it perched high on its cloud.

Several minutes had passed in unperturbed silence save for the melody of the singing birds that flew from tree top to tree top. With so much of their lives upturned in war, politics, and everyday banalities, the sudden serene of the day had been an unexpected but much welcomed respite from reality. Each year the burdens of society wove its way further into the trenches of their relationships, plaguing them with the tidings of age. The impending prospect of death seemed more relevant than ever for knights Karsh and Dario, and the reality of future Mistress and leader of El Nido bore heavily down upon young Riddel's shoulders. Glenn's life seemed only natural in its reflection of his older brother's: future Knight of Viper Manor whose loyalty lays in death for his nation.

For however permanent each of the friend's lives seemed set in stone, however, they each seemed equally as reluctant to acknowledge their future roles in the history of a nation, all of them steadfastly holding on to those childhood moors that meant simpler times. In all of the quiet that settled over them, though, it was not hard to imagine how drastic a change could come. Most painfully aware of this pallbearer's promise was Glenn, whose worry far breached the boundaries of the self. Instead, he worried for the man he called brother, whose friends were also Glenn's friends.

As the youngest of the four, Glenn had always felt the pull of time and age the strongest, and he knew each year marked a deeper foray into territory he was scared they could not come back from. He did not want to be left behind.

The oceanic surf continued its tumble in the background. Dario had worked four braids into his best friend's head of lush hair while Riddel looked on amused beside him. Glenn sat on the grass with his back to the bench before he suddenly shook the quiet spell they had all been under.

"Will it always be like this?" he had suddenly asked. Karsh had opened one eye to look at Glenn. Everyone remained silent; Riddel and Dario looked at the young boy who had been fast maturing into a young man. It was not hard to see Glenn was wise beyond his years. Riddel looked to Dario with soft eyes that had said she understood the fear in Glenn's voice, and in some way, she empathized with his sentiment. Riddel thought, in a way, they could all empathize with the meaning behind the question.

Riddel had leaned on her side to be at Glenn's level and began to run her hands through his hair. Her touch was that of a maternal touch, comforting and loving as a mother would be so as to better comfort some of Glenn's unspoken fears. Her voice was soft when she spoke to him.

"If by your question you mean, will we always be as at peace and in tune with each other as we are now, then I'd like to think the answer is yes." Glenn had turned his head to look at Riddel, whose disposition was so affectionate and loving it was hard for him to not believe her. Still though, he felt unsure of their future.

"But, will we always be together?" he had persisted, looking from Riddel to the two boys. Karsh was still slumped against the bench, but his attention was alert and on Glenn. Dario sighed but kept his eyes fixed on the floor. Riddel could see the internal mechanics of his brain churning over ideas and words in his head, searching deep within himself to remedy the doubts of his younger brother. Dario had always very much wanted to be as best of a father as he could be to Glenn, to make up for the fact that for the most part of their lives, they had to live without one.

"You know, Glenn… I could tell you yes, we will always be together," he looked up at Riddel as he continued, "and Riddel could sit here and tell you nothing will ever change," he dropped two heavy hands onto Karsh's shoulder, "and Karsh here could tell you… whatever Karsh would tell you," he finished with a smile. "But the truth is… we won't always be like this."

Karsh looked down at the grass at Dario's words, and wondered if he had been in Dario's position, if he would have had the courage to fill the shoes of a father by being as honest as Dario always was with Glenn. Glenn looked up at his brother, and Riddel continued to wrap fine strands of blond hair around her fingertips.

"Life is filled with a lot of ups and downs, Glenn, and we won't always be together to see each other through them. Sometimes, Karsh will be gone. There will come a time when Riddel's duty expects her to travel. And you, too, Glenn. You'll be gone a lot, too. You'll be fighting, helping people, working towards keeping El Nido the peaceful place it is. We'll all have things to do, and that isn't necessarily bad."

"What about you, Dario? Will you go away, too?" There was a static silence that followed Glenn's question. It was a certain stagnation that made Dario feel uncomfortable.

"No, not exactly, Glenn. Even though we'll all have things to do, responsibilities and obligations, none of us will ever really go away. We'll all be right here," Dario pointed to Glenn's heart, "inside of each other. That way we won't ever forget each other, and we'll always remember to come back. We might not always be together, Glenn, but like Riddel said, we'll always be like this. Even if I'm not with you I'm near you, right?"

Glenn looked down, contemplating his brother's words and trying to put meaning to them. It was true; Dario may not always _be _with him, but he would always be near him, no matter where he was, no matter where he went, and no matter what happened to him.

"Besides," interrupted Karsh, who was not stupid to a lot of the double meaning these words had. Although he doubted any of them had detected it, this conversation was becoming entirely too foreboding for him to want to continue. "We all reached a milestone in our relationships, wouldn't you say? What, me and you," he looked at Dario, "have known each other for what, a good sixteen years, right? That means I've known _you,_" he looked coyly to Glenn, "for your _entire _life."

Pulling both Dario and Glenn under her arms as she leaned into Karsh, Riddel smiled, the mood lightened, and agreed with Karsh.

"And I've known all of you for more than a decade. That's pretty impressive, I'd say."

"Yeah," Karsh continued, "so it doesn't really matter what happens in the future, because you know what? Screw that, we _will_ always be like this, forever and always. Rain, sleet, snow, or shine, friendship's a twenty-four hour business guys. Ain't that right, Dario?" Karsh bounded energetically, grabbing Dario in a chokehold as he mussed his hair.

"Right… seven days a week, I'm afraid," came Dario's choked response. Glenn laughed, his eyes fixed on his older brother. He knew Dario was right, and he knew the day would sometime come when it meant for them to go their separate ways, but that day was not now, and he would do great things with the time he had, instead of worrying it away. He knew he wouldn't always have these moments with his friends, but he knew these moments would never be taken from him. A milestone it was indeed, he thought.

* * *

**A/N: So, as some of you already know, I struggled tremendously with getting this chapter out. I don't know if I'll ever be happy with it, but I'm not really… I don't know, I feel like it is really sub-par for my usual standard of work and I'm really displeased with myself right now. I don't think it's horrible, but I really have reservations about it and half wonder if it is just outright boring. I hope you managed to enjoy it a little bit. Sorry for falling into a funk right now, but I'm hoping to get out of it soon enough. Let me know what you guys think, and thanks in advance. **


	16. The Laws of Attraction

"Hey, you still thinkin' about what that guy said? Back in the bar?" Karsh's voice sounded hoarse and straggled against the cold cries of the wind. He pulled the stark black of the official Dragoon overcoat tighter to his sore body that had been worked fresh with the brusque training of this morning, and stared curiously at Dario.

The Zenan continent felt different, even for their strongest warrior, Zoah, whose profound homesickness he nursed greater than any of them there. It was October third and Dario should have been celebrating what would have been his twenty-second birthday, but instead, he was stationed outside of El Nido doing some of the hardest militant combat training he had yet to encounter during his years as a Deva.

Dario bristled at Karsh's words. In an attempt to make up for his unconventional birthday situation, Karsh had taken him out to celebrate. Things had gone relatively well up until a strange man had decided to toast their liege and the former glory of its past Devas. Dario's father had been one of those former Devas, and it wasn't the tasteless homage to El Nido's deceased soldiers that had soured Dario's mood.

"Are you even listenin' to me, Dario?" Dario's head had flinched in Karsh's direction at having been pulled from his thoughts, and he nodded absentmindedly as he felt the first unseasonable snow fall. _October snow… among other unlikely things, _Dario had thought to himself.

"Yeah… yeah, I'm listening to you."

"What I say then?" Karsh challenged good-humoredly. Dario smiled, the whites of his canines glinting under the moonlight as he hung his head downwards and slid his hands further into his coat pockets.

"You said… you said-"

"Yeah, thought as much," Karsh laughed, nudging Dario forward with his shoulder. "Seriously though," he continued, the amber of his eyes settling as he looked at his friend with an uncharacteristically serious face, "You're ok, right?"

"How do you think he knew?" Dario asked suddenly, similarly to a young boy whose reluctance to unfasten his grip on something is obvious in spite of himself. Karsh sighed; he knew the incident at the bar was plaguing his friend.

"Knew what?" Karsh asked skeptically.

"How did he know about my father?"

"He didn't know about your dad, Dario. It was a lucky guess, come on. We're Devas, the chances of one of us knowing all the old legends and former Devas is pretty likely."

"But he didn't know we were Devas."

"He didn't have to. Isn't it relatively likely that most Dragoons are familiar with the former Devas? Heck, half of Termina nearly shits their pants when one of them is mentioned. I mean, their practically goddamn royalty, who doesn't know about them?"

"But my point is, Karsh, why mention what he mentioned at all?" Dario countered. Karsh sighed at his friend's persistence. He knew where this conversation was going, just like he knew why Dario was eager to latch onto whatever information about his father that would blow his way. In reality, Karsh felt bad for Dario, for losing his dad the way he did. At twelve, no child should have to bury their parent the way Dario had to; it still remained one of the most painful memories he had of his best friend.

"He was just a loon, Dario, a crack, a nut. He was a vagrant bum who you met by chance. He was crazy."

"But what if he wasn't," came Dario's quiet response, his own conviction half fleeting as he struggled to grasp onto the pieces he tried to make fit.

"You really believe that?"

"He mentioned the Masamune, Karsh." Karsh sighed and looked to the ground that was fast collecting freshly powdered snow. They had been walking for longer than he realized.

"Everyone this side of Zenan knows about the Masamune."

"Yeah, but only a handful of people actually saw the Masamue, and out of that handful only two or three people have held it. My dad was one of them, Karsh, you know that." Karsh had always had to tread on delicate ground when it came to Dario and his incomplete childhood. Things had been hard for Dario, harder than he often let on to other people, but Karsh knew the true extents to which Dario's father's death had on him, even until this day.

The Masamune had been known for centuries as a legendary warrior's sword. Only the bravest and most courageous soldiers were worthy enough to lay eyes on the iconic symbol of status, and even then, among those men only the strongest could wield it. The sword often fell in and out of obscurity, but none who tamed its legendary power lived to tell their tale of conquest. Much of the same fate had been promised to Garai, Dario's father, who, upon unearthing it in the belly of some ferociously deep caverns, had fallen victim to the legend's fate and died. Directly following his death, the sword had taken its leave once again, and its location remains a mystery even still to this day.

The gruesome details surrounding Garai's death had been far and few between. Once Garai had been laid to rest, Dario was left with a legacy of death so heavily veiled in mystery and suspicion that his inability to accept the half-truths whispered to him as a child was still very much apparent. Karsh knew that somewhere deep in Dario's heart that had been prematurely asked to grow up, was an inherently childish desire to believe that if he could find the sword, he could put the right answers to all of the half-truths he had known all his life. In some very emotionally stunted part of the grown, gallant man that was Dario, he sought to right the wrongs he could not fix as a child.

"Yeah…" Karsh started slowly, careful to not patronize the now adult Dario, but also careful to mind the inevitable child that resided somewhere inside of him, "He did. Mention the sword, I mean. But a lot of people know about the sword, a lot of people know… that your dad was the last person known to historians to have actually held the sword… so, the chances that it was a coincidental conversation are pretty high, wouldn't you say?"

They had suddenly taken a turn, and before Karsh realized it, they were back at base. Dario was latching up the bolts to the door as they stood inside of the heated room before he turned to Karsh with a look that Karsh knew Dario did not where frivolously. Dario had looked to Karsh, in fact, to be the picture of clarity and rationality. The blue in his eyes was mild and steady, firm like the hand the gripped Karsh's arm in polite rebuttal. Dario had never seemed as sure as anything in his life as he had then, and the change in demeanor had quite frankly startled Karsh.

"Do you really believe in coincidences, Karsh? I mean, really and truthfully? That we all wander this planet for a few some-odd years and then poof, we're gone, with our lives having absolutely no purpose, no meaning, no direction even in the least? Do you really believe in a life… so abstract?" Karsh was silent for a moment. Dario had always been the level-head rationalist of the group. To hear him question the meaning of life so fervently had been a deep-seated conviction he must have nursed in only the furthest recesses of his mind. The confession had nearly made Karsh want to cradle Dario as close as a best friend could, because the untethering of a mind was a maddening but beautiful transformation to bear witness to.

"Well… I don't know," was the ineloquent answer Karsh gave him instead. "Maybe… some things, I guess."

"Do you think the two of us meeting was by chance?" Dario pushed. Karsh paused and he thought _no. _Dario had been there through far too much for him to have come into his life by chance.

"No, no I don't think we met by chance, Dario. I think… we needed each other," Karsh replied in a low, almost reverent voice.

"We needed each other. Precisely, Karsh, we needed each other. And do you know what I need?" Karsh was silent, but he had a feeling he knew what Dario needed most in his life. "I need closure, Karsh. I need an answer. I need… something, something more than I've been given my whole life, that I've had to give Glenn because… I just didn't know. I didn't know anything, and I was expected to father my brother. In our greatest times of need, Karsh… we're given things, and I don't intend to waste it." With that, Dario had turned around, unbolted all of the fastenings on the doors, and had stalked back from where they came.

"Where are you going?" Karsh yelled out to him, jogging to keep up with him as best he could.

"Back to the bar." Karsh didn't ask for what reason, he already knew. Perhaps, he thought to himself as walked silently beside one of the most unsuspecting, zealously adamant men he had ever known in his life, perhaps Dario was right. Perhaps there were no such things as coincidences, and perhaps the answers people seek in life are actually right in front of them, if they only looked just a little harder. He didn't know what this would yield for his friend, but he knew that he would not abandon him in his time of need, and he hoped, that if he looked hard enough with Dario, he could help him find whatever answers it was he so desperately searched for.


End file.
